A Closer Look
by The Pianist's Touch
Summary: The full summary is inside. This story will be mainly gen, sorry Callian lovers. Long story short, Eli and Ria find Cal's diary. This story is mainly back story, and will span from when Cal is 11 or so until the beginning of the show.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Alright guys, look. The only reason I am writing this story is because nobody else will. The only stories on here seem to be Callian ones, most that don't have a plot to go along with it. It's kind of annoying me. So, don't expect regular updates. However, this idea has been bouncing around in my head for a few days now and I decided I might as well write it. **_

_**SUMMARY: In the episode "Exposed" during season 2, Emily finds her grandmother's diary in Cal's safe. Well what if it wasn't Emily who found it? And what if it wasn't Emily's grandmother's? What if it was Cal's? This story will contain mainly back story, although it will probably have a plot as well. However, because I have my own plot in mind and I don't want to have to deal with the plot that goes on during the episode, we're going to say that nothing happens until a few days or weeks after that. WARNING: Cal will be a lot younger in the back story parts of this, so he will be somewhat OOC. It will probably be partly AU. I doubt there will be pairings, cause I suck at writing romance. Get over it.**_

Prologue:

_ Who wouldn't be curious? Why shouldn't we look in there? It's perfectly reasonable. _ Loker thought as he and Torres curiously opened the half-closed safe. After Foster had left with the file on Burns, he and Torres had decided to take a peek inside. After all, what if Burns hadn't been the only one he had been keeping tabs on? Did he know all of their secrets, did he keep them all locked up in that safe of his? They just had to know. Torres was looking through the papers scattered over the floor, while Loker was checking to see if there was anything in the safe.

"Hm. Some of these look like letters...wonder what *DRA stands for? There are some files, but none on us. Mainly just profiles on suspects for some of the cases we took a few years back. Nothing important. What about you? Find anything?" asked Torres as she flipped through some official-looking documents.

Loker pulled something out of the safe, an odd look on his face. "Is that a _gun?_" Ria exclaimed. Since when had Lightman had a gun? She never saw him carry one.

"Yeah, it is. Although seeing as how he tends to get himself into dangerous situations like this one," Loker said, indicating Burn's kidnapping, "it does make a certain amount of sense that he would keep one just in case. Either that, or he is planning to kill us all."

Ria smirked at the last part, and was about to say that they should probably get back to working on the case, as there was obviously no files on them and nothing interesting in the safe besides the gun, when something caught her eye. It was a black leather-bound book, and it looked old. It's pages were yellow, and some of the leather had cracked.

"Now what have we here...?" she murmured to herself as she reached into grab it, catching Loker's attention. "What is it? More files? Lightman's diary?" He joked. Whenever they found something interesting, they always joked that it was Lightman's diary. After all, their boss kept more secrets than a politician on trial. He expected her to laugh a little bit, and then show him what it was. He hadn't expected the serious look that came onto her face.

"...Well I guess that means it's somebody's diary. And why would it be _locked in a safe_ if it wasn't Lightman's? C'mon. It's gotta be his. Wanna read it? There has to be some dirt we can dish up, maybe we can blackmail him into giving us a pay raise." He said jovially when she didn't respond. She looked up, eyes mischievous, until they suddenly looked down and away in shame. "Nah, Lightman would kill us if he knew we looked through his personal things. And if we just sit here _in his office_, there's a good chance that once he comes back from rescuing Burns he would walk right in on us. Trust me, we don't want that to happen. Besides, we don't even know for sure if it _is_ Lightman's. Or that its a diary. It could be just a leather book...that doesn't have a title...locked in Lightman's safe...okay so it's probably his. But we still shouldn't look at it! He'll kill us!" She said, but it was in vain. Loker was already looking at the first page, his eyebrows raised as he read something.

"You raised your eyebrows. That's surprise! What'd you see?" Ria asked, noticing his expression immediately. She decided that looking at one page wouldn't be too bad, and Loker was already handing it to her.

She took it from him and immediately noticed that it was open to a dedication page. On it were these words:

_ Hey Cal. Happy 12th birthday munchkin, hope you like the gift! Remember, rip a tower! Don't be yellow, and don't take the doctor's drugs! Yes, I can practically see you smirking as you read all of our inside jokes. That's good, try not to let recent events get you down to much. Don't do anything stupid!_

_Your incredibly handsome, unbelievably awesome and super cool older brother,_

_-Max Mason_

_ "_Huh. Well I guess it can't be Lightman's, his last name is obviously not "Mason" and he doesn't have an older brother. Besides, I don't think he even has a sense of humor. Come on, let's just put it back." Torres said. Loker looked at her with his eyebrows once again raised.

"Well if it's not Lightman's, then there's no reason not to look through it. I wonder what that Max kid meant by "try not to let recent events get you down to much"? Come on, you know you want to read it! Look, I'll just put it in my bag and nobody will miss it. We can look at it later. Please?" Loker asked, eyes pleading and brimming with nosiness and curiosity.

"Well alright...but if we get caught I'm blaming everything on you. Got it?" Ria asked, with a somewhat guilty look on her face. Loker looked triumphant as he dropped the small diary into his black bag.

"Got it. Come on, let's get back to work before anyone realizes we're gone."

They headed back to the lab, and neither thought about it again until a week later.

_**A/N: Well that's the end of the prologue. I've decided that though I don't want to spoil anything, I might as well answer some questions here and now. First of all, in the episode "Exposed" when Emily is looking through the safe, she picks up and puts away a letter. If you pause the episode at 30:09, you can see the letter I am talking about. In the left hand corner it says "DRA" and then something else I couldn't make out. Wikipedia says: **_The **Defence Research Agency** (normally known as **DRA**), was an executive agency of the UK Ministry of Defence (MOD) from April 1991 until April 1995. At the time the DRA was Britain's largestscience and technology organisation. **Which sounds about right to me. And I made Cal have an older brother because when Cal is watching the video of of his mom requesting a weekend pass in "Depraved Heart" she says that she wants to go home to her husband and children. Children is plural, y'all. But later, in "Funhouse" both she and Cal's father only refer to having one kid. What the heck? I don't want to spoil anything, but adding an older brother was my way of explaining this. And yes, I know I said his last name was Mason. You know how in "Depraved Heart" they say that Cal's mom's name is Louise **_**Mason**_**? Well that right there should be enough of a hint. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hola y'all. Haha, I'm speaking Tex-Mex (it's an inside joke). Thanks to "The Appendix" who is the only person to have reviewed as of yet. Oh and by the way, when Cal talks I'll try and use British English whenever I can, but whenever something comes up like soccer vs. football, I'm gonna stick with American English. I know it better, and because this is an American TV show, I'm assuming most of y'all are Americans, so it will be less confusing. If you're not American, review with what country you're from!**

It was about a week after Burns and Lightman got back that Loker found the diary again. He had been rummaging through his black bag, trying to find a spare pen so he could write something down. He liked to take notes while he was going through case files and videos. But something caught his eye again-it was the diary. _I can't believe I forgot about it!_

"Something wrong?" asked Torres, who was helping him review the tapes. "Yeah...but be quiet about it. Look." Loker said, allowing her to have a peek at the diary. "Hey, how about I take it home tonight and read it. I'll tell you what it says." said Loker. It wasn't just that he wanted it all to himself. This was someone's diary, and to be honest, they had no right to know someone's personal thoughts. If there was something in there that the person wanted to keep private, then he would.

Torres frowned. "No, no you won't read it without me. I want to know to, you know. And it must have belonged to somebody important, to get a spot in Lightman's safe. Look," she said, catching the expression Loker made as he was about to argue, "you know I won't tell anybody what's inside. What's the big deal, anyway? It's not like its somebody we know."

She was about to say more, when Foster and Lightman walked in, Foster holding a cup of coffee. "Who's not somebody you know?" she asked as she sat down at a computer and sat the coffee down. Lightman glanced over at her, head tilted in that obnoxious manner that meant he was reading her. Why did he do that anyway? _She_ didn't need to give people strange looks when she read them. Not that she knew of, anyway.

"Oh nobody. Nobody important. Just this random girl who keeps trying to go on a date with Loker. It's kinda funny, actually. We don't even know her." She said, thinking quick. Lightman glared at her suspiciously, and then looker at Loker. "What's her name?" He barked suddenly. "Uh. Why so curious?" They both knew that it was a classic deflection, and there was no way Lightman wouldn't spot that. They weren't disappointed.

"What're you hidin' from me? I was just asking." He said. Darn that infuriating head tilt of his, and that Loker had to be such a bad lighter. Screw "radical honesty". Lightman couldn't know about this. He'd be furious if he knew they broke into his safe.

"Geez, why do you always think we're hiding something. Our job is to interrogate suspects, not each other. And her name's Sarah. Sarah Genelli." He blinked quickly, showing high cognitive thought, and then bit his lip, displaying how nervous he was. And if that wasn't bad enough, he had to look at her for reassurance. _At least he didn't blurt out that we had taken something from his safe._ Torres thought.

Lightman glanced at both of them, mistrust evident in his eyes. But then again, that wasn't all that unusual. Lightman didn't trust anybody. Maybe he bought it? Whether he bought their lies (which she didn't think he did) or not, he apparently decided that he would leave it alone.

"Whatever." Lightman said as he pulled up a chair and dropped himself down onto it, an expression of deep concentration on his face. "So how's the case going. Did you find anything?" Torres nodded. "Alright then. Fill me in."

Torres cornered him as he was unlocking his car in the parking lot. "Hey Loker. Can I come over to your place tonight?" she asked, fiddling with her hands somewhat nervously.

"Sure. Can't wait to take a peek at that diary?" he asked jokingly.

"Well, there's that, and, well, my place can be incredibly lonely, especially at night. I hate living alone sometimes. So can I?" She asked. Loker was a little taken aback, but who was he to say no to a lonely, sexy girl who he'd had eyes on for a while? He'd be a fool to let this chance pass him up.

"Yeah, sure I guess. Can you meet me there. Do you know where I live and how to get there?" he asked. He didn't think she had ever been over to his house, so he was a little surprised by her answer.

"Yeah I do. I can meet you in fifteen minutes. See ya later!" She called as she walked towards her car. Loker shook his head as he put his keys into the ignition and started driving. So they would be spending the night at his house, for the first time, to read a diary of some kid that they'd never heard of but who had the same first name as their boss, which they got out of said bosses safe, and who would kill them if he found out what they were doing. _Yup_, he thought as he turned into his street, _they were insane. _

They huddled together on the couch (a position Loker was _very_ comfortable with) as Loker finally took the black leather-bound diary out of his bag. "Do you still want to read this?" He asked, just wanting to be sure. Torres swatted him on the arm. "Yes, you jerk. I wouldn't have come here If I didn't. Here, _I'll_ read it if you don't want to." She grabbed the diary, and began reading aloud.

_Cal Mason. September 26__th__, 1975, 12 years old_

_Max is such a jerk! Giving me a girly little book like this! And then what he said when he gave it to me. "Well, here. Have fun, munchkin. Use it once in a while, why don't you? You know that archaeologists and historians base a good amount of history on journals and diaries? Who knows what the world will be like in a few hundred years? Maybe they will need it. Just...dont' go flaunting that around school, okay? Don't want any of my friend's making fun of me because my brother's getting all...girly." Max is a bit of a history fanatic, but he is also a jerk. He just thinks that he's so cool because he has a girlfriend, and Oxford has already been looking at him for college scholarships, even though he's only sixteen and a sophomore. Bloody genius. And he doesn't need to call me munchkin! I'm not that short!_

_ "You wanker. And don't worry, there's other things I could do to make your friends make fun of you." He hit me on the head, and then Dad got angry and hit him in the head. Mum just kinda sat there. Way to ruin the mood, Dad. _

_ He can be mean like that sometimes. I think he's just been anxious, because he will be shipping off to Northern Ireland in about a month. We're at a ceasefire right now, but who knows how long that will last? Just this month five some more people were shot down!_

_ I told Max once that I was worried about Dad. He hadn't been nice lately, but he was still our dad. What if he dies? Max just gave me this look, glared at Dad, and then told me not to worry about it. Mum burst into tears when I asked her. Now I feel bad. _

_ The other gifts I got for my birthday were a new watch from Mum, and a shiny blue rock from my best mate Terry that's supposed to be good luck. Dad forgot to get anything. But anyways, Terry and I go way back. We became friends last year, when somebody had been making fun of him."Hey, kid. Got some money I can borrow? Oh wait, of course you don't. You're so poor, you look like a homeless man. Street Trash." One of the boys who had cornered him had said. The other kids started catcalling him. "Street trash! Who needs you?" and "Your mother has more kids than she can afford to feed. Maybe she should get rid of one. How 'bout you, trash!" and other things like that. Terry glared, but didn't really fight back. He liked to talk his way out of situations, but I didn't know that back then. I wasn't exactly rich either, and I hated to see other kids get made fun of. So, being the bloody idiot that I am, I walked right up to one of the meanest kids and socked him good, right in the nose. I think I felt something crunch. There was a moment of silence, and then Terry punched somebody too. I don't really remember what happened next, only that we got the crap beat out of us. Max was proud, Mum cried (she's been doing a lot of that lately) and Dad was drunk, and mad, and smacked me around a few times so I wouldn't do that again. I didn't care. I was happy. I had gained a new best friend._

The entry was finished, and Loker and Torres looked up at each other. So the kid was named Cal, _and_ he was British? The only thing keeping him from thinking it was Lightman was the last name and the brother. Ria looked a bit unsettled at the thought that the dad was often drunk, and had hit the kid on at least two occasions. He probably hadn't really injured the kid, but still. These vague off-hand mentions of abuse clearly brought up unhappy memories for Torres.

"You alright?" Loker asked, mildly concerned. Torres gave him an angry look. "Yeah, yeah of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be?" Loker opened his mouth to say something, when Torres caught his look and glared. "Don't even think of answering that. You and your stupid "radical honesty". I'm fine, see? Fantastic. Here, you read this next entry."

Loker took the diary, and this time he was the one who began reading.

_**A/N: Okay, so that's not the best writing I've ever done. But give me a break. It's past midnight! I can barely think! And yeah, I know the entry doesn't sound very British, but just read it with an accent and maybe you'll get over it. I had actually started to write the second entry, and was about halfway through it, when I thought 'screw it' because I'm really tired but I wanted to post the chapter. Sorry guys, I'll post it in the next chapter. Please review! I live off of those!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Alright, I've made my decision. However confusing it might be, I will now call soccer football. And I think rugby and American football are pretty similar, so if I'm talking about football I will call it rugby. Any other ideas to make my writing sound more British? I know almost no British slang. And I would write all money in euros, except I don't know how to convert American dollars into euros. And I keep looking but I don't think I have a euro button...**

_ November 3rd 1975 age 12_

_ Dad left to go to Ireland yesterday. He'd been sober for an entire week in preparation for leaving and seeing all of his old war mates. This past week has been great, even though we knew that Dad was leaving soon. We had fun the whole time, and Dad kept being nice to us! Like yesterday. We all went out and got ice cream, and then later he bought me a new pair of cleats and a football, just for the heck of it! Then we went outside and played football for hours. Max and I were on one team, Dad was on the other, and Mum was cheering us on. We used the fence as goalposts, and I'm surprised we didn't knock them down, considering how many times we both scored! Max and I won, but it was close. It had to have been the best day ever! Max still won't forgive Dad though. I think he and Mum are happy he's gone. Well, maybe not Mum. I'm not sure if I am or not._

_ December 25th 1975, age 12_

_ I hate Christmas. Dad is still gone. He didn't send any presents. My friends were all celebrating with their families, so I couldn't escape to Terry's or Michael's or any of my friend's houses. Mum looked out the window and sighed a lot. Max and I just went out into the backyard and played football again, but it wasn't the same. Mainly, we just sat in the living room, looking at our withered tree and pretending we were happy. I hate Christmas._

_ August 22nd 1976 age 12_

_ It's Max's birthday today. I got him a funny little book I found. It's one of those short little instructional books, and it's called "How To Be Awesome, Even When You're Not". He's seventeen and is almost a junior now, and Oxford is still hinting about him. There's no way he's not getting a full scholarship. Just because he can name every important battle that's happened in England since...well, since forever, they think he's so special. I don't see why they care so much. He may be a genius, but only really in history. He's not a genius in anything important. I guess he could be a teacher or something, but that's so boring! I'm going to be a scientist. I don't know what type of scientist yet, but that's what I want to be. _

_ Today was fun though, even if I had to put up with Max all day and be nice to him because it's his birthday. Terry, Max, Samuel, (Max' best friend) Grace (Max's girlfriend) and I all went out to see the Tower of London! I've been before, but it's still pretty cool. And Max got a car! I walked into the garage this morning and saw him working on Mr. Ashdown's old Toyota. It had broken down several times, and Mr. Ashdown said he would pay for Max to fix it, because Max is good with cars. Max had finished about a week ago, but was just finishing polishing it over and deciding that there wasn't anything more that he could do. "Happy Birthday Max. Why are you still working on that old thing anyway? I don't think it will break down anymore, just give it to Mr. Ashdown. We can use some of the money to go out and do some fun stuff." I said. Max just looked at me and tried to wipe some of the grease off of his jeans. It only smeared it more. "Alright, munchkin. I guess there's not that much more we can do anyway. Grace and Samuel and I were going to hang out anyway, it would be nice to have some money. Hey, I'll tell you what. If I get enough money and you don't annoy me, then you and Terry can come with us. Just try not to embarrass me in front of my mates, okay?" I nodded quickly. Max almost never let me hang out with him and his friends! We had driven the car over to old man Ashdown's, and then Mr. Ashdown let him keep the car -and the money! He said that he didn't need it anymore, and that he felt like it was the right thing to do. Max looked like he wanted to refuse, but I'm no fool. I just said thanks and then dragged Max back to the car before he could say anything. He was kind of angry, but he got over it. He was just as excited about the car as I was. After a while we went and picked everyone up, and then we went and drove around London for awhile, before finally deciding to go visit the Tower of London. Hanging out with Max's friends was okay. Samuel was nice. He was pretty goofy, and kind of obnoxious, but he didn't try and leave me out or anything. Grace kept acting like I was an annoying tag-along. I wish he would just break up with her! She's mean! Terry thinks so too, but then again, neither of us have had a girlfriend, so I guess we don't really know what it's like. Mum didn't come with us. She's been leaning out the window and sighing a lot, and she never wants to do anything anymore! If she was miserable with Dad here, then she's even more miserable while he's gone._

_Maybe she will just be unhappy forever._

_ February 4th, 1977 age 13_

_ Dad is home! But he's been acting weird lately. He didn't even say hi to me. I haven't seen him in over a year, and then he doesn't even bother to give me a bloody hello! Jerk! He just got really, really drunk, and then went upstairs to sleep it off. Before he went upstairs, he said he had something important to tell Max. I don't know what he said to Max, because Max won't tell me. But one side of his face is all bruised, like someone punched him, although he says that he ran into a door. I don't believe him. I guess he must have gotten into a fight with Samuel again. They do that sometimes. He's in his room sulking now. Mum is still sad, even though Dad's home. She went upstairs to say hello to Dad, and to ask him what was wrong. When I passed by their room, I heard lots of shouting and then a thump, and then Dad saying that he was sorry, he was so sorry, over and over again. I'm kind of scared. I wonder what happened? I want to know, but I'm not stupid enough to go up and ask!_

_ February 14th, 1977 age 13_

_ I asked Chloe out today. She's this pretty girl with blond hair who is in my science class. She said yes, and then kissed me on the cheek.! Yes! I told Max and Mum, and Max got all happy and told me I was going to be a ladies man. Mum was apathetic, as per usual, but she smiled at me a little bit, which I will take as a good sign. I didn't say anything to Dad, because he still hasn't said anything to me. When I told Terry, he just shoved me into a locker and said that she was probably only going out with me because I was a science nerd and I would help raise her grade. I punched him and said that he was just jealous. Christ, Terry Marsh may be my best friend, but he can be such a jerk sometimes!_

"...Terry Marsh...isn't he...?" Loker didn't want to voice his question, because it couldn't be right. Because wasn't Lightman's best friend-or rather, former best friend- named Terry Marsh? And Lightman was British. And his first name was Cal. And, if Loker's math was right, if the kid was 12 in 1975, he would be around 47 now...and as far as Loker knew, that was the same age as Lightman. But Lightman's last name wasn't Mason. And he didn't have a brother. And his father wasn't abusive, and his mother wasn't depressed. Right...? Loker looked at Torres to see if she was thinking what he was thinking. She stood there, rubbing her thumb over her hand, not really trying to mask how uncomfortable she was.

"Yeah...I know what you're asking. Terry Marsh was Lightman's best friend. And Loker, we have to face the facts. This Cal and are boss are probably one and the same."

**A/N: Please review! If you do you can be added to my unofficial list of awesome people! Even if you say, "I read the chapter" that's at least something! I'll give you a nonexistent cookie! Oh, and are there any betas out there who might be interested in beta-ing my story? Alright, so, the question of the chapter is what is the most attractive accent? Comment with your answer!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Howdy! (yes, I did just say that because I was feeling particularly Texan). Okay, I'm going to take a wack at the next chapter. Hey, if one of you decides to beta for me, I will love you forever. And I'm going to try and make this chapter longer. Any suggestions for a good word count? **

_**Current top reviewer: The Appendix!**_

_**Song of the Hour: World So Cold, by Three Days Grace**__ You want to listen to it? Here's a link: _

http:(double slash)www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)watch?v=fGxcvkiTRe8

"Do you want to keep reading?" Loker asked. He wasn't sure if he still wanted to. This was his boss's _diary_. It was a bit personal-more personal than he currently felt like being with Lightman. He was dying to know, but there were some lines that really shouldn't be crossed.

"Well...I'm not sure. If this is really Lightman's...and you have to admit, it's pretty _darn_ likely...then we really shouldn't invade his privacy. Not without good reason."

"But then again, Ria...haven't you ever wanted to know more about Lightman's past? I mean, he's always been so freaking secretive. I, for one, would want to know." Loker said. Torres wasn't the only one he was trying to convince. This had seemed like a good idea at the time. It would satisfy his curiosity, and it meant that he could spend the night with Ria...just the two of them...in his house...maybe overnight...maybe in his bed...no. He had to stop thinking that way. Besides, Ria could probably see the arousal all over him, being the natural that she was, and it would be a bit odd to be aroused at this time. With a smile, he shook his head as he collected his thoughts.

Torres was giving him this calculated look. Screw it. She probably noticed all of that, including the arousal when he looked at her. Darn naturals.

"Yes Eli, of course I've wondered about Lightman's past. But it's not like neither of us have ever kept secrets. Most of the time, unless it's important, he respects that, and since this isn't important, we should respect his privacy too. This isn't right. It's one thing snooping around the diary of someone we don't know, it's entirely different if it's somebody we do. We might read something in there we don't _want_ to know." she said.

"Darn your cool logic. Nobody ever lets me make the wrong choices. Oh well, I guess we should try and smuggle it back into Lightman's safe before he notices it's gone. He'll kill us if he finds out we read any of it, even if it's only a little bit." said Loker, resigned to the fact that he really was going to just put it back. What a lost opportunity.

Torres nodded, and began gathering some of her stuff together. Loker guessed that meant she wasn't going to stay. Dang it.

"Besides, Lightman will know. He's _the world's foremost expert in lie detection_, for God's sake! There's no way he won't know. Oh God. We are so fired. We are so, so, so _fired." _Torres said, panicked. She needed this job, to pay for her apartment and to support her sister. She couldn't be fired!

"And we can't really put it back, could we...we don't know the password to Lightman's safe! Oh no, oh no, what are we going to do...it's not like we can just "conveniently" leave it in his office...he'll still know someone looked through his safe, and he'll be able to tell it was us. Crap! Why did I agree to this again?" Torres was pacing up and down now, completely nervous. Who knew she was such a worrywart? Not that Loker didn't understand.

"We could always just tell him...maybe he would understand? It's not impossible, you know?" Loker said. Torres snorted and gave him a "look".

"Who am I kidding? It's Lightman. He's never understanding. Okay, so we don't tell him the truth. But we can't outright lie, he'll spot that. If we avoid talking to him for the entire day, he'll notice that too. So what else can we do...?" Loker mumbled, only half-talking to Torres, and was talking to himself more than to her.

"Wait. How did you avoid letting people know that you leaked information to the SEC? During the Holin case, I mean?" Torres asked. A sudden memory made Loker's eyes light up, and he smacked a palm up to his forehead in a classic "ah hah!" moment.

"Oh! Geez, I really am an idiot, aren't I?" Loker asked sheepishly. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that, especially seeing as he was the one who had to lie! But then again, he had told her about it, so at least she remembered that he'd had to take that sedative to lie.

"You don't want me to answer that." Torres replied, but she said it with a smile, so Loker didn't care.

"Hey, I think I still have some of the meds left. Do you want some?" Torres was giving him an odd look, and Loker suddenly realized that he was offering her drugs, and that she was sorely regretting having done this at all, even if it meant spending time with him.

"...Look. This is our best option. I know it's _drugs_, but it's not like it's addictive or crack or anything. It's not even illegal. It just relaxes the facial muscles. And it's our only choice." Loker said, replying to her silence. She still said nothing, but nodded to show her consent. He picked up a round orange bottle and tossed it to her.

"Here. I've got some others. And in regards to the diary, I guess I'll just keep it until I get the chance to sneak it back. Look, I'll see you tomorrow at the office, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, alright." Torres said as she began walking out the door. Loker followed her out and stood on the porch next to her, shivering in the cool air.

"Hey, I'm sorry for dragging you into all of this. Me and my darn curiosity...and now you could lose your job. I'm real sorry about all of this." He said, trying to make up for what they were doing.

Torres leaned closer to Loker, until they were looking at each other, faces inches away. She suddenly kissed him, lips as soft and gentle as a dove's feather.

"Don't worry about it. Goodnight, Eli."

Loker had no idea what had prompted _that_. So he simply stood at the door, gobsmacked, and waved stupidly as she began driving away.

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The next day in the office was nerve-wracking. Loker and Torres were terrified that Lightman would find out what they had been doing, and they knew that they looked terrified too. But besides that, it was also awkward. Neither knew how to act around each other. They weren't a couple or anything, but Ria _had_ kissed Eli last night. That meant that they were more than friends or coworkers, but less than a couple, leaving them in that horrible, terribly awkward, annoying middle phase. It didn't help that they had to see each other all day. But it got better as the day went on, and they came to the mutual understanding that nothing happened last night. It got even better when Lightman assumed that they were acting weird because they had kissed (Darn the man, how did he _know?) _and that it was nothing more than that. About a week passed, with nothing exciting happening. Until something did.

They had been working on a pretty average case, which involved someone who had broken into a rich old man's house and had stolen a priceless Degas painting he had. Their job was to find out where he had hidden it. So far, it looked like it was somewhere in his house. Besides that case, things had been moving pretty slow.

Around three in the afternoon, a man who appeared to be in his fifties walked in. He had brown hair, hazel eyes, and looked to be a little under six feet tall. He had a shifty look about him, and his eyes kept glancing from side to side, and he bit his lip like he was nervous.

"Hello sir. Welcome to the Lightman Group. How may we help you?" Loker heard Heidi say to the man. The man stood up straighter, and then ran his hand through his hair.

"Yes. Um, could you take me to C-Lightman's office? I would like to speak with him please."

That wasn't that unusual. Sometimes people came with private matters and preferred to talk the boss only, even though the rest of them normally found out anyway. What was unusual was that he started to say Cal, as if he knew him. And the fact that he said that in a distinct working-class London accent.

"Sure, I can do that right away. He's not in his office right now though, he's in a meeting. I hope you don't mind waiting?" Heidi said politely, leading the stranger up to Lightman's office.

"No not at all, thank you. Could we please hurry though?" The man said, glancing behind him again and walking a little faster, fiddling with the zipper on the brown leather jacket he wore as he went. Heidi frowned, catching on to his unease.

"Well, um, alright then sir. Exactly _who_ should I tell Lightman will be waiting in his office?" Heidi asked, a little suspiciously, as the stranger stopped and began tapping his foot against the floor, apparently trying to think of what to say. Loker didn't like the way this was going. If the man didn't even want Lightman to know his name, that meant that Lightman probably wouldn't be very happy to see him, and the stranger knew that.

"Just tell him it's Max." The man said, and then continued walking.

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Loker and Torres looked at each other. This couldn't be the same Max that they had read about, could it? The one that was Cal's brother?

They wanted to leave the lab and follow the man up to Lightman's office so they could hear what he said, to make sure that this was Lightman's long-lost brother, but that would look just the tiniest bit suspicious, wouldn't it?

"Ria. What should we do now? Should we follow him...?" Loker asked. They both looked over at Foster, who was bent over a computer, oblivious to the world.

"I don't know. Where is Lightman anyway? If he's not down here and he's not in his office, then where is he? He should be here!" Torres whispered back. They both looked at Foster again, who was still ignoring them.

"I'm not sure. I think he may be in a meeting with some people who are interested in donating some money. I don't know why they would decide to give money, and I hate accepting handouts, but I'm not complaining."

"Well, yeah, same. And I _do_ think we should follow him. I don't know what's going to happen, but whatever it is, it's going to be pretty important and I want to see it." Torres said in response. Loker nodded once, quickly, as if he had expected this.

"Alright, in about a minute, I'm going to 'go to the bathroom'. Don't follow me immediately. Wait a few minutes, maybe around five or so, and then excuse yourself to get a cup of coffee. Then meet me at the door to Lightman's office. That sound alright to you?" Loker whispered, the plan pouring from his mouth as if he had planned it before hand. Torres raised her eyebrow, impressed, before nodding again. They both straightened up-they hadn't even realized they had been leaning towards each other while they were whispering-but Loker banged his hand on the table and couldn't help but curse loudly, catching Foster's attention.

"Yes Loker? Something wrong?" she asked with a touch of concern and annoyance mixed into her features. She had probably been working on something important.

"No, nothing's wrong. Actually, I'm, uh, going to go to the, um, bathroom. Yeah. So, uh, I'll be right back." He stuttered, racing out of the room and running into a chair, provoking another curse. Foster turned to look at Torres, and this time it was Foster who had her eyebrows raised, amusement all over her face.

"Don't ask me. I don't know what goes on in that screwed up brain of his." Torres lied smoothly. She was a much better liar then Loker, and she knew it too. Foster gave her a suspicious look, thought about pressing for more details, and then apparently decided that whatever she was working on was more important, and so decided to trust Torres and go back to her work. Ria just hoped that nobody else could see the relief that was all over her face.

About four minutes passed, and then Torres said, "Hey, I'm actually kind of thirst, and dead tired. I'm going to go get some coffee. You want some?" she asked, hoping Foster would say no.

"Yes please, that would be great. I wonder what's taking Loker so long?" she asked.

"I don't know, but he'll probably be back any second." Ria said as she walked out the door, and then speed-walked to Lightman's office. After a few minutes, she met up with Loker.

"Hey, have you seen Lightman yet? Or this "Max" guy?" She asked as she caught up with Loker, who was leaning casually against a wall near the door to Lightman's office, one foot up against the wall, arms crossed, the epitome of relaxed.

"I've seen Max. He came into the office a few minutes before I got here. I still haven't seen Lightman yet. Come on, let's hide. It would probably be best if we weren't seen." Loker led her over to a desk and they both knelt down.

It wasn't a moment too soon.

Lightman came strolling down the hallway seconds later, talking to Heidi who was walking next to him as he went. Loker could only hear snatches of the conversation.

"...was one of the most boring meetings...life...you for...someone's waiting in my office?"Loker heard Lightman say. The last part came out loud and clear, surprise causing his voice to rise. He saw Heidi nod, and then Lightman asked something else he couldn't hear.

"Well he didn't tell me his last name. He just told me to tell you that his name was Max, and that you would know who it was." Heidi said in response to Lightman's question; presumably, he had been asking who was waiting.

Lightman gave her a long, level look for a moment, and then he continued walking.

Max was a common name, especially here in America. It could be anybody. And honestly, there was almost no chance that it was who he thought it was. And Lightman was never wrong. It couldn't be him.

Lightman opened the door to his office, hesitating only a second, and walked in, closing the door tightly shut behind him. He didn't see the two eavesdroppers pressing their ears to the door, because he was distracted by a face he hadn't seen in over thirty years.

"Hey Cal. It's me, munchkin. I need your help."

Well sometimes Cal was wrong.

**A/N: And here it is. Chapter three should contain more action, a fight, moving the plot along, and the reading of some diary entries. Sounds exciting, right? Good. If you think so, put this story on Story Alert. And comment, I like that too. Gosh this chapter was so hard to write. I kept getting distracted by Three Days Grace playing in the background. That band is so beast.**

**Well until next time!**

**~mourningstar13~**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks a lot to Unweaving the Rainbow, who is looking over this chapter for me before I post it. Now you are added to my list of awesome people. Well, it turns out that Skillet can be just as distracting to listen to in the background while writing as Three Days Grace, but I will prevail! Lol yeah. Now for something I have forgotten, which will probably get me sued some day.**

**DISCLAIMER: It's not mine. Nothing's mine, It's very sad. Well, I'm probably going to forget this a lot, so let's just accept that. It really isn't mine. Don't have a clue who it belongs to, but its not me. For real.**

"Max? Max Mason? You're alive! But what _the hell _are you doing here? Get out of my office." Cal said frostily. Max gave him an expression similar to that of a kicked puppy, disappointed by his brother's rejection. He had been banking on him to help him out.

"Come on Cal! I need your help! Don't make me leave. And come on, aren't you glad to see me? I haven't seen you since you were a kid. Don't you want to hang out or something?" Max said, holding out his hands compellingly. Cal's face darkened, and he began to get angry.

"You mean I haven't seen you since I was thirteen. When you were eighteen. When you _left,_ goddammit! You left and stole a large amount of Dad's hidden money-which, I will tell you, he was _not_ happy about it. But you left, left me alone with-with _him_, and with Mum! Come on Max, there's no way you didn't know she was insane! She was mumbling to herself like a bloody lunatic! You walk back into _my office_ after thirty three _long_ years, and then you ask if I want to _hang out? _You're lucky I even recognized you, you bastard." Cal's voice was tightly controlled-a bit too tightly. He spoke low and dark and dangerous, like a shark, or a wolf or hawk circling in for a kill. Max gulped and ran a hand through his hair.

"And how did you find me anyway, Max? I still called myself Cal Mason last time I saw you, how did you know I was going by Lightman now? How did you find my building? Better yet, why _the hell_ are you here? And why won't you _leave?_" Cal hissed angrily. Max looked a bit sheepish.

"How do you think Terry found out, when he came to see you I mean. He did it the same way I did. I looked up "Cal Mason" and the paper trail told me you changed it to our mother's maiden name. They do register things like that, you know. Not that I blame you. I don't want any connections with Dad either, not after what he did. But that's not the only reason, is it? You didn't want a connection to us, did you? To any of us! I bet you just thought, the past is the past, so I might as well just cut all my friends lose and run away to the U.S! It's not like I care about any of them! You didn't even bother to contact any of us, not even me! You didn't even send _one BLOODY _letter! Not even _one_!" Max said, screaming the last bit in his anger.

"Yeah well you didn't exactly make it easy for me, did you, _Max_?" Lightman spat out. "Once you turned eighteen you left without a word. Not a postcard, not a letter, you never dropped by, and I never saw you again. I looked for you, Max, I really did. But I couldn't look forever. I had to stay home and take care of Mum, it's not like there was anyone else who would. But you just left, and then made me deal with the mess, made me deal with everything alone. Why, Max? How could you do that to me?" Cal asked softly. By the end, he wasn't angry anymore. He just sounded sad, and a little lost. Max just looked ashamed.

"Look Cal, I was young...I...I shouldn't have left you alone like that. But I couldn't _stand _living in that house any longer. If I could do it over again...I would change, honest. Do you forgive me?" Max sounded hopeful, pleading, and regretful.

There was a silence that stretched across thirty three years of shame, regret, longing...and fear.

Cal thought.

And thought.

And thought. Until...

"No." He said, and then punched Max hard, right in the jaw, so hard that he was actually lifted off his feet and fell into Cal's desk.

Max sat, rubbing his jaw for a while, and then smiled to show a mouth full of bloody teeth.

"I suppose I deserved that." He said, hoping that because Cal had gotten rid of his pent-up anger that he could say what he had come here for.

"Bollocks. You know you deserved that. Bastard." Cal said as he gave Max a hand up. Max laughed, releasing the tension.

"Yeah, I did. So, now, what I've come here for. Samuel's after me. He's gonna kill me, mate. He's gonna shoot me dead. I'm done for." said Max fearfully. Cal's head jerked up, and he gave Max a long hard look.

"Why?" Cal asked, emotionless as the walls surrounding them.

"Don't be an arse and make me explain it Cal. You know why." Max said in return. It was true. Cal did know why Samuel, who had been Max's best mate, was after him. But he didn't know everything.

"No. What I mean is, why now? Why is he after you again? He tried to kill you thirty years ago and failed. What's got him so interested again? And why do you have to drag me into it? Why can't you just go fix it yourself?" He said callously. Max swallowed.

"His daughter was murdered, shot in the back of the head. She would have been around fourteen now. Without his daughter holding him back, he has nothing to lose. You know he blames me for...for what happened. And I can't go to the police for help. A few months back...money was low, and I robbed a house. They're still after me for that. Now he's convinced the police that I did it or that I am at least a likely suspect. He just wants their help in finding me so that he can kill me. " Max said. He was afraid, anybody could see that. But Cal was getting angry all over again, and he didn't care.

"Well did you?" He spat out angrily after a pregnant pause. There was another silence after he asked, and then, "Did I what?"

"You bloody well know what I mean. Did you kill her?" Cal questioned, and then wished he could eat his words. Max simply stood there, shoulders drooping downwards, his face so open and wounded that he felt as if he had gone up to a little kid and said that Santa was an ax murderer who liked to kill puppies.

"God, Cal-I, you should know I would never-I-I- no, I didn't kill her." He said. Cal read his face, but there were no signs of a lie. Only guilt, shame, sorrow, and fear. There was no sign of a lie. He sighed.

"It just-it just figures that in all this time, the only time you would try and contact me was when you needed me. It just figures. Do you even know anything that's been going on? Mum's dead. She committed suicide a few months after you left. Dad is almost as long gone as you are. I have a daughter now, a beautiful sixteen year old daughter named Emily who doesn't even know she has an uncle." Cal said accusingly. Max looked down and away: shame. He probably didn't know most of that.

"You got married?" He asked. Cal wasn't really the type for a bastard kid, so that was just what he assumed. Besides, it was a good way to make conversation.

"And divorced." Max winced. So much for conversation. He really didn't know anything. His brother had built up a world, a past and a future and a life, and Max wasn't a part of any of it. It was his own fault. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

"What about you? Got a kid? Wife, girlfriend? Anything?" Cal asked. Max wasn't really the type to be a lone wolf; he was too much of a people person for that. That's why he was surprised by Max's next answer.

"No. You're the only family I have now. Can you please help me catch the real killer and clear my name? Because despite everything, we're still brothers, and brothers help each other out, right?" Max said hopefully. It was the first time either of them had said that they were brothers.

Cal opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, he heard the phone ring, and Foster's voice rang out over the phone.

"Hey Cal. Could you come down here for a moment? We've found something regarding the Degas case you might want to see." Cal picked up the phone.

"I'll be right down. Just one second."Cal put down the phone and grabbed a manilla folder in one swift movement, and began walking out the door, ignoring Max until he was almost into the hallway, when he suddenly turned around and put one hand against the door frame, leaning against it. He always was somewhat dramatic.

"One thing you shouldn't forget. I still hate you. But I'll take the case. Not for you," he said as he caught Max's face lighting up with happiness, "but for the girl who was killed, and for Grace, and even for Samuel, but not for you. And Max?" He asked as he began turning around.

"...Yes...?"

"I don't have a brother."

Then Cal turned around before he could see Max's wounded expression, and walked down the hallway with his shoulders drooped as if he were Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

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Torres and Loker once again looked at each other. They had heard the entire thing, and they couldn't make head nor tails of most of it. What they did know was that Max was definitely Lightman's brother, the diary was also definitely Lightman's, and they were so going to be fired if he found out about their part in all of this. They began walking back to the lab, heads spinning with new information. Once they were almost to the door of the lab, Torres pulled Loker over to the wall and put her hands on either side of him, effectively tapping Loker in.

"We need to read the rest of that diary now, don't we? It was completely fine and dandy to put it back when our jobs were on the line but now-it sounds like Lightman is going to help Max, who is running from the law and has somebody out to kill him. This could be dangerous, and we don't even know the whole story yet." She said this all quickly, voice lowered in a hushed whisper.

Loker didn't respond immediately. He knew it was a big breach of privacy to be doing this, and he certainly wouldn't want it to be done to him. In fact, it was probably illegal, seeing as how they had basically stolen the diary. But it could be dangerous _not_ to know what was in the diary, not to know what was going on. He decided not to think about it anymore.

"My place or yours?" He asked quickly. Torres smiled at him.

"How about mine. Meet me at seven?" she asked.

"Alright. It's a date." he blurted out before he could think of what he was saying. Ria smiled at him.

"Yeah. I guess it is." and then they both turned and walked into the lab together.

"Where have you two been?" asked Foster when they walked through the door. Crap. They had forgotten about her.

"Uh, where we told you we would be. Why wouldn't we?" Loker asked, and he actually sounded genuinely curious as to why she would think that they weren't in the bathroom and getting coffee, respectively. Foster didn't look like she was buying it.

"Well because I asked Torres to bring me some coffee, and she brought back coffee for neither me nor for her. You both arrived together. And I didn't know it took," she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes to do something that really should have only taken two. You two have been sitting on a secret all week, and everybody can see it. Why don't you just go ahead and tell me what it is? It's not like I'll tell anybody." Torres looked to Loker to decide what they should do. He took the lead and stepped forward.

"Ria and I started dating last Saturday, and we didn't want anybody to know because we were afraid it would affect things here at work. That's what we were doing just now, actually. Ria wanted to have a..'romantic conversation' with me, if you catch my drift. I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but we didn't really figure it was important." Loker could be a good liar when he wanted to. Strangely enough, his face wasn't showing any of the usual signs of lying. He was probably still on that sedative. Not even Ria would be able to tell that there was more to it than that, but she knew the truth.

Foster nodded and smiled happily. "Well good for you two! I'm glad you started going out. And don't worry, I won't tell Cal and let him ruin everything." she said. Eli and Ria thanked her, and then went back to work, wasting time until they would meet up at Ria's house at seven...

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Loker's car pulled into Torres's driveway at seven o'clock on the dot, wearing his best sweater and prepped up as though he were about to go on a date. He turned the key in the ignition and walked steadily up towards the door, ignoring the fact that it was beginning to snow lightly. After running his fingers through his hair, checking to see if his breath smelled, and making sure the diary was still where it was supposed to be, he knocked on the door.

"Yeah? Whaddaya want?" asked an old man, who looked to be about eighty, who opened the door. This hadn't been what Loker had expected. Where was Ria? Was this her grandfather or something?

"Hello. Um, is Ria Torres in here somewhere?" he asked, leaning to one side of the old man in an attempt to peek inside. It was a colorfully decorated house, the house of a crazy, eccentric old man, but not cool logical Ria.

The old man's face twisted in anger. "No! What is wrong with you people, why do you keep showing up? She's next door! Not here! Now go! Get! Get off my porch!" He grabbed a wooden broom that looked as if it had been used one too many times and began wacking Loker with it, shooing him as if he were a dog.

"Hey! Hey, what's going on! Don't chase me off like-"the man slammed the door in his face. "Trash" he finished, even though nobody was listening.

"Well that was weird." Loker mumbled to himself as he walked to the next house, praying that it was the right one. He knocked on the door again, this time a little more tentatively, prepared to duck out of the way if it was another crazy old man with a broom. It wasn't.

"Hey Loker. What took you so long?"She asked playfully. It hit Loker then; she had given him the wrong address on purpose!

"You know what. Why did you give me that crazy old man's house instead of yours? He chased me out with a broom!" Torres laughed loudly and invited him in the house.

"Well old man Harris is annoying, and more than a little mad. I like to bother him. And it _was_ funny." she sad, laughing at his expression. "I looked through the window when I heard the car coming up the driveway. It really was hilarious."

After a moment or two Loker began chuckling as well. It actually _was_ kind of funny. They walked over to the couch, one of the few pieces of furniture that decorated the spartan, but brightly lit, living room. He sat down and pulled out the diary.

"Hey Ria. Are you ready to some more of this? And before you answer, let me tell you this: if at any time you decide you want to stop reading, just tell me and then I can read it on my own and summarize it for you. It's no big deal. And...I want you to know that I'm here for you." Loker said earnestly. Torres began to reply, maybe to tell him that he didn't need to worry about her, maybe to deny the fact that there was anything in the journal that could bother her, before shaking her head and deciding that she would accept his offer. She leaned her head against his chest and snuggled against him, and he put his arm around her. Once again, he was _very_ comfortable with this.

"Are you ready?" he asked, taking the diary and opening it to the page they had left it at nearly a week ago, the last time they had done this. She nodded. Just like last time, she was obviously going to listen to what was in that diary. After he found the page, Loker shifted around a little, cleared his throat, and began to read.

_ March 22nd, 1977 age 13_

_Chloe and I are still going out. She's so beautiful! I think I'm in love with her. Of course, Max says the same thing about Grace, but we both know that she wants to break up with him. She's been eying Samuel for a while now. She's okay, but I still don't like her. I think she's self—centered. Not like Chloe, who cares about everybody. Chloe Robinson is incredible. Mum is self-centered too, but in a different way. Mum is really nice, but she never pays attention to anyone around her. All she does is look out that dull grey window. I wonder what she sees. She certainly must not be seeing the grimy, rubbish-filled streets below us, with rats and crime aplenty. She keeps smiling, as if she's seeing something beautiful. But when I look, nothing and nobody is there. She's scaring me. And she never talks anymore, and she doesn't move, and she doesn't react. Yesterday Dad was hitting me, and it __hurt.__ If Mum is there, she normally tries and stop it. But this time, she just kept looking out the window and sighing. Eventually Max came down and stopped Dad, but I wish it had been Mum. Max is my hero now. He's so smart, and he always comes and keeps my safe from Dad, even if he gets hurt while doing it. Dad changed, when he came back from the war, and that's why Max needs to protect me from him. He sees everybody as an enemy, and he's drunk all the time. Max says that he saw some bad things in the war, and that he is drinking because he wants to forget, but I really wish he wouldn't. I haven't heard him say "I love you son" or "good job Cal" since that day we played football in the backyard. And now Max has started changing too. He's out of the house all the time, and when he comes back, he's often drunk too. I don't think he's doing as well in his classes anymore. And when he is here, there's always yelling, and Max is always hurt. I'm not a kid. I know Dad is doing it. It's because he thinks Max should join the army and be a real man, like him, and Max just wants to reenact battles and go to Oxford. He doesn't hang out with me as much anymore, but he's still nice to me most of the time. He's still my hero._

_June 16__th__, 1977 age 13_

_ Chloe and I broke up. She says that her dad thinks I'm some sort of hooligan because I look like I'm beat up half the time. I don't tell her my dad did this. She doesn't need to know. Nobody needs to know. They should all just leave me alone. I think me and Max should run away together. In a few months he will be eighteen, and I know he's been thinking about it. He won't be able to stay here once he's turned eighteen, Dad's obsessed with the idea of him going into the army and Mum is backing him up. Well, she's not backing him up, but she's not saying anything against the idea so I guess that counts. I haven't had a real conversation with my mother in weeks. All she does is stare out the window. I want to take a hammer and chuck it at that stupid bloody window so that it shatters. Maybe then she will wake up and realize what is going on around her. But she won't. She just sits at the window and dreams of a better life. She sits and dreams, and pretends reality doesn't exist while the rest of us suffer._

_July 4__th__, 1977 age 13_

_ I know Americans have a holiday today where they shoot fireworks up into the sky. I wish somebody would do something like that now. Max is talking more and more about leaving. He's becoming obsessed. He's making plans, calling in favors, and ignoring his kid brother who says, "please stay" and "please take me with you" and "don't leave me alone with them". He doesn't here any of that. He just hears Samuel telling him that he should pack his bags and leave. I hate Samuel. He and Grace are dating now. I think they deserve each other. I failed a science test. I punched Terry the other day because he called my mum mad. He still hasn't forgiven me. I want all of my problems to bugger off and bother someone else. I wish I had a firework to make all of this darkness bright. _

_ August 22nd 1977 age 13_

_ Today was Max's birthday, he's eighteen now and a legal adult. We threw a surprise party for him, over at Samuel's house so we could avoid my parents. It was fun, but Max kept being really nice to me and giving me hugs whenever he saw me and stuff like that, and telling everybody how proud of me he was. It wasn't just me he was doing that to, it was to everybody who was important. He's kind of freaking me out. _

_ August 23rd 1977 age 13_

_ Something terrible has happened. I only just found out about it from Terry (who started talking to me again last week). Last night after the party, Max was driving home with Samuel and Grace and Derrick, Terry's oldest brother. He was going to drop them all off at home-well, except for Samuel, who just went along because he thought it would be fun. Max was drunk-they all were- and he ran into a stop sign outside of Grace's house and knocked it over! It was dark, and nobody could really see it, but nobody decided to call it in because they didn't want to have their license taken away, and they couldn't really afford whatever they might be fined. So they kept on going. Well after he dropped off Derrick, he doubled back so he could drop off Samuel. Grace was waiting outside her house for them to pass her, planning on waving her best friend and boyfriend goodnight before she went to sleep. But there was a car and it was going too fast and I don't know what happened-I wasn't there, I had decided to walk home-but the car didn't know that it had to stop and it hit Grace! She's in the hospital now, in the ICU. _

_ Samuel blames Max for everything. For being drunk, for not calling in that he ran over the stop sign, and for making his girlfriend get hurt. He beat him up-badly. They've gotten into fights before, but nothing like this. His face is all sorts of bruised, and some of his bones are broken. I know because I saw the fight happen. It was terrible. The look on Samuel's face-he was out for Max's blood. He was trying to kill him. Max isn't home right now, he's in the hospital being fixed up. Dad's not going to like it when he gets the bill. Joy. Oh wait, the phone is ringing-it's news from the hospital!_

_ ...Grace is dead..._

_August 27__th__, 1977 age 13_

_ Max is back from the hospital. He didn't come straight home though. In fact, Mum and Dad don't even know he was here. It was late at night, and it was dark, and I was about to go to bed. Well after a while, I started hearing this rhythmic tapping sound against my window. __Thwap! Thwap! Thwap!_ _ Well, I eventually got up and went to my window to see what this tapping sound was. I looked out the window and it was Max, chucking small pebbles at the window pane. I wondered why he didn't just use the front door if he was locked out of the house, he had a key. Maybe he lost it? I decided it didn't matter, so I let him in. He climbed up and perched himself on the window ledge, acting as if he __were about to duck out again any minute. I didn't understand. _

_ "Come on Max, what are you doing? You're gonna fall and break your neck! Get inside!" I felt like a mother hen, but I said it anyway. He shook his head no._

_ "...I killed her, Cal. Grace is dead because of me. I killed her." He croaked out in a harsh whisper, as if he hadn't spoken for a while. _

_ "It wasn't your fault Max. Now get inside. Don't-you know, kill yourself or anything." Actually, it was his fault. But I wasn't going to tell him that. He shook his head again._

_ "I hate this house."He whispered again, looking around. His voice scratched like a broken record. "It's not a home."_

_ "You might hate it, but come inside anyway. It's not your fault, okay? None of it is your fault." I said. Max was scaring me. Why was he acting so strange? Thankfully, he shook his head and walked into my room, and then into his room without another word. After a few minutes, he came out with his backpack bulging. Why did he have that? _

_ "Max...you're not leaving, are you? You can't! You're the best brother ever! You're my hero!" I said desperately. Max chuckled darkly._

_ "You're good to me, munchkin. But you're wrong about one thing. I'm no hero. Heroes are always the good guys, and good guys don't kill people. Because of me, someone is dead. No, I'm no hero." He said quietly. He saw that I was about to say something, and then put his finger to his lips in the classic "shhh!" move. He was right. I didn't want to wake anybody up. "Look, munchkin...no. You're not a bloody munchkin. You're a man, Cal, a man, and I should treat you like one. I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm going to leave, just for a little while, so that everybody can cool down and I can get things in order. You're going to have to take care of Mum while I'm gone, and you are going to have to be the man of the family, since I won't be here and Dad won't take care of everybody. Do you think you're up for that Cal?" He asked, laying a hand on my shoulder and looking me in the eyes, the expression on his face dead serious._

_ "No." I answered honestly. How could he think I was ready for that! I would never be ready for that! At least I didn't have any younger siblings to protect like Max did, but I still wasn't ready! And I'm no man. I'm just a kid. Max shook his head, and it was obvious to me then. He was going to leave, no matter what I told him, whether I was ready or not, and there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise. _

_ "You're brave, Cal. You can handle it. And I know what you're going to ask and...no. I can't take you with me. It could be dangerous. Look, I know it might seem hard, but it's for the best, trust me. And its only for a little while. And look Cal...don't do what I'm doing. Don't be a coward and run away. If something bad happens, stay and face the music, but don't run. Don't be a coward like me." He said. He began climbing out the window again. "Goodbye, Cal."_

_ "WAIT!" I yelled. Max stopped, perched precariously on the ledge, and waited for me to say whatever I was going to say without turning around. "You're a good brother Max, don't forget that while you're 'getting things in order'. And...how long will you be gone?" I asked. This time, Max turned his head to face me._

_ "Not forever...but...I don't know." He sounded lost, but before I could say anything, he leaped from the window and landed in a crouch, before he started jogging away into the ink-black night._

_ "Goodbye." I whispered, but nobody was there to hear me._

_September 26__th__, 1977 age 14_

_ This was my first birthday without Max here. It's been about a month since he left. Mum baked a cake, except she didn't finish making it all the way. It was only half-cooked, and Dad ate some and got sick, so now he's grouchy and mean again. At least she tried. It was the most I had seen her move __in nearly a year. I don't think Max is coming back. It's been a month. He hasn't even left a note. I thought he would only be gone for a week or two. I'm gonna have to get a job, Dad is drinking away our money and Mum isn't going to work anymore. She would rather sit at the window. I think I can get a job delivering papers around the neighborhood, and I might be able to get a weekend job babysitting some of our neighbor's kids. I don't know if it will be enough. Mum brought up a piece of cake earlier. I guess she forgot that she hadn't finished cooking it and that it would make me sick too. It was chocolate, with smudgy little flowers on the top. A girly cake, but I didn't mind. On it was a candle, burning weakly. I blew it out and made a wish. I wished Mum would smile and laugh and talk. I wished Dad would play football with me in the back yard. Most of all, I wished Max would come home._

_ I wish for a lot of things that will never happen._

**A/N: Sorry I didn't send this to you first, Unweaving the Rainbow. I couldn't figure out how. And sorry readers if it doesn't sound very British. This really was an angsty chapter, wasn't it? Well, now that you know what's going on with Max, I can move on with the story and get on with the diary entries. Just as a warning, at one point it may begin to skip years instead of months. This is because it will start to get repetitive, so sorry. Anyways, please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Alright, here's the next chapter. It will contain a lot of journal entries, and probably a mix of important developments and pointless angsting. However, it will hopefully be fun to read. And thanks to Unweaving the Rainbow for helping make this sound more British. **

**DISCLAIMER: It's mine. Really, it is. -is attacked by lawyers in suits-I mean, uh, of course it's not mine! Why would I ever claim Lie to Me? It belongs to...whoever it belongs to. -shoots nervous glance at lawyers-uh, just go ahead and read the chapter.**

Ria and Eli looked at each other. "So that's what happened with Max...he never came back, did he? Well I guess now I can understand why Lightman would be mad, and why Samuel would be out to get Max. I feel bad for him, though." Torres said softly. She wasn't quite sure how she should react to the fact that her boss had been abused, just like her. He didn't act like someone who had been abused, but then again, he would have had a long time to work past it. But reading all of this information...it was changing the view she had of her boss, and she wasn't sure she liked that.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. He can still be a major jerk, though."Loker said as he rubbed the back of his neck, remembering thrown objects and harsh words. Torres had to laugh at that-he might have had a crappy childhood, but he was still the same guy, he was still a stellar jerk. They weren't going to start being all-_friendly_ with him now. "But it will be weird, when we are finally done reading it, to see our boss with no secrets."Loker continued. He was right. It would be weird.

"Well we don't have to read all of it. We can leave him _some_ secrets." She said. Loker raised his eyebrow, but nodded. They only really needed to know any secrets that would be dangerous, and Loker figured they would reach a point sooner or later where none of the secrets he had mattered, because it would all be small stuff. Loker still couldn't believe that Lightman had kept a _brother_ secret from them though. Well no, he could believe it, but he was still reeling from the shock of finding that out.

"Hey...Loker." Ria said, capturing his attention. His head snapped to her and he asked, matching her cautious tone, "...yeah?"

"Maybe we should bring Foster in on this. No, hear me out," she said quickly, seeing the look on Loker's face. "Yeah, I know that some of the stuff in here would bother her more, because she's closer to Lightman, and the less people that know about all of his private crap the better, but she deserves to know too. After all, the main reason we are reading this is to be safe, right? Well shouldn't we let her be safe too?" She asked. She could see that her argument was winning Loker over.

"Well, I suppose..."Loker said in reply. He didn't know why, but he just felt uncomfortable about letting Foster read this, in the same way that he felt uncomfortable knowing all of his boss's secrets. There were simply some things that you just didn't want to know about a person, and someone like Lightman _needed_ his privacy, in the same way that Loker needed his honesty. It was like a protective shield. In Loker's case, telling the truth meant that everybody trusted him, and everybody was nice to him. It was a way of keeping everybody nice and friendly. With Lightman, it was a way of knowing that there were still parts of him left for other people to discover. And either way, nobody liked having their mind displayed.

"Alright. We'll do it tomorrow then." Torres said in a tone that forbade argument. She could tell that Loker had doubts about telling Foster, and she could tell he had doubts about reading the diary, and she could tell he had doubts about knowing too much about their boss. But she still felt that it was the right thing to do, and if there was one thing about Torres that was true, it was that she tried her hardest to do the right thing, and Loker knew that, and saw then and there that any argument he might have still had against telling Foster was lost.

"So...do you want to read more now? It's not like we have anything else to do, really." She said casually. Loker looked at the clock. 11:54. The middle of the night. Loker could think of some things he would like to do with her in the middle of the night, but he wasn't going to mention them right now. He needed to get his mind out of the gutters. He leaned back comfortably on the sofa and nodded yes, content to let her soft voice cascade over him as she read aloud.

_December 21__st__, 1977 age 14_

_ I've got a job, but things are still going poorly for my family. I never realised how much we needed the money that Max raked in. Max. I miss him. I've never gone so long without talking to him. And everybody looks at me with pity, well except for Terry that is. He doesn't really understand, says he would be glad if one of __his__ brothers took up and left. You would think that that would bother me more, but he didn't say it in a mean way. At least he isn't giving me any goddam pity. I hate that. But hey, that's what best mates are for, right? _

This entry was the last entry of any significant length for a while. It seemed like Cal had taken to using less words and writing short, significant statements.

_December 25__th__ 1977 age 14_

_ I'm rather impressed that they forgot it was Christmas. _

_December 26__th, __1977 age 14_

_ Max is never coming back, is he? He said he would come back, he promised. Or did he promise? I don't know. I can't remember. _

_January 1__st__ 1978 age 14_

_ My new year's resolution is to forget I had a brother. He certainly forgot about me._

_February 14__th__ 1978 age 14_

_ Well that was the first time I ever seriously snogged a girl. I seem to be having a lot of success on Valentines Day. And Jenna Cleaveland certainly isn't a bad person to snog. I could get used to this. Terry has a girlfriend too, he has for a while. Sally Robinson, my old girlfriend and Chloe's twin sister. They've been getting pretty serious now, and he certainly likes to brag about it. I don't see Jenna and I ever getting that serious, though._

_March 2__nd__ 1978 age 14_

_ I wonder what Max is doing right now? No-I have to forget about him. Dad acts like he never existed. Mum compensates for his loss by staring at me, and sometimes talking to me more. Sometimes, when she talks to me or about me, she calls me Max instead. We look alike, we have the same hair, and the same eyes, and the same nose. There are differences here and there, but I feel like a reflection of my brother. I wish I looked less like him, at the same time that I wish I looked more like him. I wonder who she sees when she looks at me-me, or Max? I try to forget about him, but I feel sad. It feels like he's dead, and I'm mourning for him. Maybe he is. Maybe that's why he never came back. Maybe he's lying in a ditch somewhere, stone cold and dead, waiting for someone to find him. I guess I'll never know. But I can't think of him anymore. I'll go insane, waiting for him to come back. Well at least Mum and I would have one more thing in common. _

_July 6__th__ 1978 age 14_

_ I robbed a store yesterday with Terry. It was illegal, but a lot of fun. The adrenaline rush you get is amazing. We went into a corner shop and we both stole a chocolate bar. Nothing major, but still illegal. All we did was go up to the candy counter and stuff it in our pockets, and then we walked away. We almost got caught though. A cashier, who thought we were acting suspiciously-which, we kind of were-walked up to us. "What are you guys doing? You're not stealin' somethin', are ya?" He had said, somewhat angrily. We both froze, and looked at each other. Terry looked to me to get us out of the situation, but I drew a blank. "Uh, no hablo ingles." I said. That threw him for a loop, and he stood there for a second while we ran like the hounds of hell were after us. We managed to get away, and I'm pretty sure we weren't caught on tape. Still, I feel kind of bad. I haven't eaten it, and I think I'm going to sneak it into the store tomorrow, the same way I stole it. Not gonna tell Terry that though. He'll think I'm a sissy or something._

_August 22__nd__ 1978 age 14_

_ Today is Max's birthday. He would have been nineteen now. Would have been? No, he is. Samuel hasn't come over in a while. We used to go over to his house, to try and comfort him over the loss of Grace. For the longest time he refused to see me, but eventually realised that it wasn't __my__ fault. Me and Terry would hang out with him, but he just got more depressed when he saw us. I guess seeing us reminded him of the old days, back when he and Max and Grace were all best mates, and had been for years. Now he just gets angry when he sees us, especially now that it's the day she died. In the same way that it's almost the anniversary of Max's leaving, it's the anniversary of Grace's death. I'm not sure which is worse, the day of the anniversary or the days before, and after. When you have to wait for the tears to fall, because it doesn't feel like its time yet, but at the same time, you miss them so bad. To me, it's the anniversary of both of their deaths. There's no way Max wouldn't have come back if he were alive. He loves us! Or, he loves me at least. Right? He wouldn't do something like not come back on purpose, Max isn't that kind of guy. He's the good guy. And he wouldn't do suicide either. He was a happy. At least, he was before he killed his best friend..._

_August 27__th__ 1978 age 14_

_Max is gone forever. _

_ He's either dead, or never coming back. Either way, he's gone forever and I will never see him again. I loved him. Love, not loved. Still do. He was my brother. Of course I loved him. He was a great guy. He was an amazing football player, the best mate and worst enemy. He was incredibly loyal. He was an amazing student, and he was going to go to Oxford on scholarship, and he probably would have been a teacher in the history department. He always did love history, as opposed to my love for science. And he was a great brother. He played with me, and was nice most of the time. We laughed, and made all sorts of inside jokes. He protected me from Dad...and he told me that Mum would get better even when I knew she wouldn't. I wish Mum and I had become closer after my brother's death. Instead, we just became more distant. I haven't said a word to either of my parents in weeks. Mum leans out the window and sighs. Dad gets drunk, same as he used too, but now he just looks at Mum, and looks at the wall, and the door to Max's room, and looks regretful. He doesn't really notice me anymore. He doesn't hit me, but I feel as if I am a ghost in the house, with the way he just looks right through me as if I weren't there. I would rather have him hurt me and be angry all the time then for him to forget my existence too. We don't have very much money anymore, even though I've been working lots of odd jobs. Mum isn't working, and Dad has drunken us into debt. It's cold and dark right now, because we don't have money to pay the electric bill. I'm using a torch to write this. I despair of things ever getting better. I wish Max would come back. Then he would fix anything. I suppose it doesn't matter, because he would have been off to university this upcoming year anyway. It feels like I'm writing a eulogy for him, right now. It's not confirmed that he's dead, but he might as well be. Sometimes, I open the cover of this book and look at the message that he wrote, years ago. It feels as if it were yesterday. I don't know what to think when I see the words. I'm supposed to smile, or cry, or do something like that. But instead, I just stare apathetically, wishing I could conjure up an emotion. R.I.P Max. I miss you. If you can, please come home..._

_ September 26th 1978 age 15_

_ I'm fifteen now. Woohoo. Everyone acts like I'm starting to become so grown up-15, 16, 17, 18. These are supposed to be the ages where you start becoming an adult. This birthday doesn't mean that much to me. It wasn't even really acknowledged. Well, Dad said, "Look kid, you're fifteen now. Congrats, and all that. Now go get me a beer. I can't stand the sight of you." Not much of an acknowledgment, but I'll take what I can get. Mum wore a I gave her a few years ago. I don't know what that means, but if it means that she remembered my birthday then I'm happy. Terry and I went and spray painted the walls of some buildings at midnight, which must have been a few hours ago now. We wrote stupid things like, "This is not a message." or "Look up." and above it would be a sign that said "look down." It's not allowed, but it was so much fun! I love the adrenaline rush I get when I do bad things with Terry. It's like I can forget all the crap that's happening. It's a great feeling._

_ November 18th 1978 age 15_

_ My school is now offering a psychology class for all Year 11 students. I think I'll take it, it will be a much more interesting class than something like music class. Basically it just picks apart people's brains, and we study why people do the things they do. It's quite interesting._

Loker stopped her, glad that they could stop on a good note. "Ria, I think that's enough reading for tonight." He said, and pointed at the clock. Torres followed his finger and looked-it was 1:23. They had probably better get to bed.

"Hey, Torres..."Loker said cautiously. He was a little nervous about what he was going to say next.

"Yeah?"  
"It's a little late to go out driving home alone...what if something happened? Why don't you stay over, just for the night?" He asked hopefully. Torres shot him a miffed look.

"I'm not having sex with you or anything, if that's what you're implying." She said angrily. Woops. Loker guessed that maybe he was going to fast. They had only kissed the one time, after all. So he hurriedly tried to cover his mistake.

"No, that's not what I meant at all! It could be just a friend thing! I have a spare bedroom that I use when friends come over sometimes, you can sleep there." He said. Torres gave him another look.

"So you, a guy, asked me, a girl, to spend the night over at your house when nobody was there, and sex wasn't on your mind at all. Sure. However, if it's _just_ a friend thing, then I would be glad to stay over. I would hate to drive over to my house at this time of night." She said, a little skeptically at the beginning, but her voice became kinder towards the end.

Loker nodded and said that it was just a friend thing, and they both went to their respective bedroom and went to sleep.

**A/N: I know this chapter was shorter than the last few, so sorry about that. So Cal has realised that Max is never coming back, has started to get interested in psychology, which will be the precursor to his interest in face reading, and has started to get into some of the bad stuff he does with Terry that we heard about that one episode. Next chapter: The Lightman Group are introduced to Lightman's brother, and Loker and Torres tell Foster about the diary.**

**Adios, mis amigos! **

**~mourningstar13**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: You know the drill.**

Emily was over at her Zoe's house this week, and there was no reason for Gillian to come over to his house tonight. Cal was safe and secure in the knowledge that he could get completely wasted without anybody knowing.

He was sitting on the couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of scotch in his left hand while he swirled its contents and thought.

Max wasn't dead. When he didn't come back, Cal had assumed the worst; everybody had. But now, over thirty years later, Max had shown up in his office to ask for his help. He didn't know what to do. He had last seen Max a few weeks before his fourteenth birthday. They had both been teenagers then. Now they were adults, and they'd had less time to learn to live with each other than to learn how to live without. Cal could count on one hand how many people knew he had a brother, and those were all people he had known before he'd left England. Not even Gillian knew about Max. But then, why should she? Up until today, Cal had assumed he was dead, and why should he bring up a dead brother?

Working on the case would be hell. He and Max were different people now than they had been all those years ago...they were practically strangers...but at the same time, they were _brothers..._

Heh. Some brother Max was. He had let his family and friends think he was dead...he had let his _brother_ think he was dead. He had left Cal alone, to deal with their parents and poverty and their crappy life all on his own. And Cal didn't think he could ever forgive him for that. He wasn't sure that he exactly _hated_ him...but there was no love lost.

Cal shook his head and set the scotch on the table as he went to turn on some music in an attempt to drown out his thoughts. It didn't really work. So he just took another swig of the scotch, and decided he would get dead drunk instead.

_This is a page break this is a page break this is a page break no really, this actually is a page break_

Cal woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and a killer hangover. He groaned as he got out of bed, hating the fact that he had to get up and deal with work. Why couldn't he be hungover in peace? But no, he _had _to go in to work and solve other people's problems. So somebody killed somebody else. He didn't need to deal with it! Still grumbling, he picked his car keys off the kitchen counter and shuffled out the door, banging his shin along the way and letting out a stream of curses.

Things got a little better when he finally arrived at work. He yelled at Loker, got some coffee, and then yelled at Loker some more, all of which were very stress-relieving. He could tell Loker and Torres were keeping a secret from him, and something major by the expressions on their faces. At first he had assumed that they were keeping secret a new relationship between the two of them, and had treated it as such and had not thought about it any longer. Now, though, he wasn't so sure.

"Um, sir?" Heidi said, catching him in the hallway as he grumpily tried to find someone to yell at. He was tired, hungover, and pissed off for no reason at all, and not really in the mood for a conversation.

"What?" He barked out, annoyed at the world and willing to take it out on anyone who talked to him.

"Um, that man from yesterday stopped by a few minutes ago, and told me to tell you to call him." Cal couldn't stop his face from adopting a sour expression as he remembered _why_ he was angry. He quickly put a somewhat neutral face on before Heidi could catch it, glad that it was Heidi he was talking to and not Torres, who would have caught the expression in an instant.

"Call him? I don't even know his phone number." He said as the realization donned on him. He felt slightly stupid, but at least he hadn't run to the phone or something before thinking off that. Heidi handed him a slip of paper with a number and the name "Max" written underneath it. She raised her eye a little bit at the fact that he was on a first name basis with a man he had supposedly only met yesterday, but decided not to comment, which was something Cal was grateful for.

He stalked over to his office and closed the door behind him, mentally preparing himself for what would probably be an exhausting argument. However much he wanted to call Max and say nothing but, "Screw you!", but he couldn't. This was a case, and nothing but a case. It just happened to involve his long-lost brother. He needed to be professional about this, and treat it like it was nothing special to him. He didn't want Foster, Loker, Torres, or Emily finding out that Max existed. He would rather have him just fade quietly in and out of his life. He wasn't thirteen anymore. He didn't need a brother, and he had built up a life without him.

Cal still wasn't sure how he felt about Max being alive. He was glad Max wasn't dead, even if they weren't exactly buddy-buddy at the moment. But that simply begged the question of why he didn't come back. Samuel was grieving, scared, and angry at the time of Grace's death, but Cal didn't think he would kill Max. It was only after Max ran away and never came back that Samuel began to slowly lose touch with reality.

Cal slowly dialed the number, hesitating only a moment as doubt filled his mind. Maybe he didn't want to do this. Sure, they were brothers, but that didn't mean Cal had to help him..._no_. He thought as he shook his head and began punching numbers in.

Max picked up on the fourth ring, sounding too happy for Cal's liking. He probably hadn't expected him to call.

"Hey, munchkin! You called!" He said excitedly, and Cal could hear the smile in his voice. It surprised him somewhat-Max had been depressed and angry when he had last spoken to him. It was as if someone had given him a personality transplant.

"What're ya so happy about? I called for business, not to chat. And don't call me munchkin. I'm a grown man now, and so are you. We're practically the same height now." Cal said grouchily. He heard Max laugh on the other end of the line.

"Whatever floats your boat, munchkin. And that's rubbish. We can chat _and_ work on the case, you know. You could come over to my place for a beer, and we can catch up." What the hell? Did he think that Cal _wanted_ to talk to him? Had he not been awful to him yesterday, and told him he didn't _have_ a brother? What was going on in his screwed up head?

"Why on earth would I want to do _that?_ Max, we need to get something straight. I am talking to you because I have to. Stop trying to be nice to me. I would rather hate you without you trying to make me feel guilty for it." Cal snapped out angrily. They weren't friends. They were brothers in blood only. They were two men who were thrust together by circumstance, and nothing more than that.

"...Come on, mate. That's bullocks. You don't hate me..." He said. Cal was getting tired of this, and decided to get to the point, and address the main reason that he had called.

"Screw you, Max. Come over to the Lightman Group at three so that we can..." He didn't want to say the word "interrogate" and frighten Max off, "...interview you." Max made a sound of surprise.

"Interview? What the hell are you talking about? You're going to question me? Why? Why me? I already told you that I didn't kill that man's daughter, and he has no right to blame me for it!" Max shouted in outrage. Cal couldn't help but notice with dismay the distancing in language. It was a sign of severe anger...normally the type that led to death. Max hadn't been lying when he had said that he didn't kill her, but it was this type of thing that led to the interrogation of suspects.

"What do you mean, why you? You killed her, even if it was an accident. Samuel hates you, mate, and by the sound of it the feeling is mutual. Unless you can bring Samuel in, you're the only person we _can_ question. " He said evenly. It wasn't just in Samuel's eyes that the blame rested on Max, but it wasn't as if he could tell him that.

"...do you mean Grace, or Samuel's daughter?" Max said shakily. A sign of anxiety. Cal didn't answer.

"Just be here later. Oh, and something else. If you want my help, you have to pretend you don't know me. I call you Mr. Mason, you call me Dr. Lightman, and we don't give anyone any reason to suspect that we didn't meet just yesterday. Got it?" Cal said. Mr. Mason was what people called their father, and nobody wanted to be addressed formally by someone they knew well, so Cal figured Max wouldn't like it. But that didn't matter.

Max sighed. "Alright...but do I really have to go over there? So that you can interrogate me with questions and cameras and _lie detection experts_ who are going to analyze everything I say, every little action. Can't you just accept that I'm telling the truth? Just trust me, okay Cal?"

Cal glared at the phone, and remembered the long list of reasons why this morning sucked. He was tired, hungover, and pissed off. And his long-lost brother, who had left him alone when he had needed him most, had decided to rear his ugly head. "Trust you? Max, I lost my trust in you after you lied to me. I ain't ever trustin' you again. Now bugger off for now, and be here at three." He said as he hung up, without listening to Max's complaints. He sighed, and started rubbing at his forehead. He had considered arranging for Max to come later, maybe tomorrow, or in a week. Or in a year. Or never.

How was he supposed to interrogate his own brother? He wouldn't be able to treat the case professionally. He briefly thought for a moment that maybe he should have Torres be assigned to the case instead-after all, she would probably be able to do the case better than he would considering who they were questioning-but he wouldn't. It was his brother, his family, his problem. It just didn't seem like the type of thing he should callously pass on to someone else, and pretend that it didn't matter to him that it was Max they were talking about. Well, pretend to himself. He'd be pretending to everyone else anyway.

He sighed again, and began putting together the case file.

_This is not a page break this is not a page break it's only your imagination this is not a page break_

Gillian Foster hummed to herself as she began doing paperwork in her office. It was a bright, cheery day outside. Maybe that was the cause for her inexplicable happiness. Not even Cal's sour mood could bring her down today.

"Hello, Dr. Foster. How's your day been? Any sign of a new case? I think everyone is going stir crazy from boredom." Torres said, smiling as she walked into Foster's office. It was true, everyone _had_ gone stir crazy. But she was interested to know if Lightman had said anything about a new case, particularly one regarding Max. Due to the way Lightman had been talking to Max yesterday, Torres assumed that they would begin working on it soon. Lightman would want to get it over with.

"No, not yet. I don't mind though, it's nice to have a time when we actually _aren't_ doing something. I've been working on some paperwork, nothing to stressful." She said conversationally. Torres nodded, distracted. At that very moment, Cal rapped on the door and walked in without waiting for her to say anything.

"Oi, can you two ladies please meet me in my office? We have a new case. And do either of you know where Loker is?" They both shook their heads and followed him out of the office, catching Loker along the way. Foster saw Agent Reynalds hanging around, and started to wave him over to join them, but Cal shook his head at her. She didn't know why he would be trying to exclude Agent Reynalds, but she supposed that she would go along with it, seeing as how she didn't know what was going on.

They all walked into the office and Lightman closed the door behind him, turning to face them all with a serious face.

"Alright, we're taking on a new case. It involves a man called Max Mason," he didn't miss how Loker and Torres started a bit at the name, and decided to address that later, "and he has somebody after him because he thinks he murdered his daughter, a man named Samuel Dove. Mr. Mason didn't, however, and came to me for help, deciding to avoid the police because he was afraid that they might try and arrest him, seeing as how Samuel convinced the cops that Mr. Mason was responsible."

There were protests around the room, and Loker asked, "Doesn't that mean we're aiding and abetting a criminal? If he's a suspect, shouldn't we not be helping him, shouldn't we turn him over to the police? Can't we get arrested for this?" right around the same time that Foster said, " Samuel? You're on a first name basis with him?"

Lightman ignored Foster, but made sure to give out negative body language signals. He wanted her to ask any more about it, and he hoped she saw that. Instead, he decided to address Loker's question.

"Yes, we can be arrested, but no, we shouldn't and won't turn him over to the police." Cal said decisively, and nobody was brave enough to question him. Once Lightman had his mind made up, he rarely changed it. "Which is why we're not going to tell Ben about this unless we can't avoid it. He's part of the FBI. If he knew about this, his hands would be tied. He would _have_ to tell the local authorities, or risk losing his job and being thrown in jail, even if he didn't directly do anything. Just knowing and not reporting can have some serious consequences." He made sure to catch everyone's eyes, holding Gillian's the longest.

"And what about my question? About you calling him by first name?" She asked evenly, maintaining their eye contact. He silently cursed himself. He had prepared and reminded himself to only call Max Mr. Mason, but he had forgotten about Samuel and Grace. It just felt natural to call them by first name.

"Slip of the tongue." He said, daring anyone to question him. Nobody did. "We have Mr. Mason waiting in the Cube right now. He's the only suspect," he hated calling Max that, "that we can get a hold of right now, so we will have to get as much information as possible."

Foster looked like she had more questions-why were they taking a case that could get them in trouble with the police, why was Mr. Mason the only suspect they could talk to when talking to Samuel Dove would be better, and why did Cal show a very, very brief flash of agony when he said "Mr. Mason"? She decided he would ask him later though, in private.

Loker and Torres didn't show any surprise at all. They knew what was coming. Lightman saw this, and made sure that he would talk about it to them later. They certainly knew something already about this case, and they had both been keeping a secret all week...

_this page break is only in your imagination this page break is only in your imagination this page break _

Foster, Loker, and Torres watched as Lightman slowly entered the Cube, somewhat hesitant for the first time about interrogating a suspect. The suspect, Mr. Mason, sat idly in a chair, and appeared to be bored. Strangely enough, he didn't seem that nervous, not like most people were when they were about to be interrogated. While others stood ramrod straight and had a tendency to fidget and move aside their hair or tap their fingers, the man sat slumped over the chair with an arrogant slouch, his light brown hair flopping into his hazel eyes. If Foster were to guess, she would place him at around 50, although he didn't have any gray hairs and could easily be younger. He was dressed casually too, in jeans, a brown leather jacket and a black shirt, as if he were going to see a friend and not be interrogated as to why someone was trying to kill him. That was also unusual. He wasn't even fidgeting. Why wasn't he nervous?

"Hello Mr. Mason. You know how this goes, right? I ask some questions, you answer them. Some of the questions might be difficult, or hard to answer, but you're just gonna have to suck it up and answer anyway, okay?" Mr. Mason and Lightman shared a significant glance, and then he nodded. Gillian thought this was strange. Loker and Torres were watching with curiosity all over their faces, and that wasn't unusual. They were in the Cube, interrogating a suspect-that definitely wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the fact that they didn't really know very much about the case. They had just found out about it, but they were already interrogating somebody. It was as if Cal didn't want to give them time to wonder about it. Also unusual was the suspect's _complete_ lack of nervousness...and the way Cal ran his hand through his hair as he sat down across from Mr. Mason. On anybody else, Gillian wouldn't have noticed...but that was a symptom of anxiety or frustration, and why would Cal be nervous about interrogating somebody when the person he was interrogating wasn't? And he was explaining something...Cal never explained anything. He liked to keep people on their toes so that they would be more likely to slip up. It was just weird, and unlike Cal.

"Alright then. Ask away." Mr. Mason said, and it was impossible not to notice his voice-more specifically, the London accent, and the way his voice seemed to have the same inflections that Cal's did. Maybe they grew up in the same area...maybe they knew each other, and that was why Cal was nervous? It would make sense.

"Did you murder Grace Dove?" He shot off suddenly. Max blinked rapidly...he hadn't realized that Samuel had named his daughter after Grace...

"No. I hadn't seen Samuel in years, why would I murder his daughter? She got shot in the head, but that doesn't mean she was shot by me." Straight answer, no deflection, added detail and steady pupils...he was telling the truth. His voice rose in pitch, but Cal figured it was simply outrage and surprise that he was asking this again, and not anything more than that.

"Well I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Cal said challengingly. Max looked down and away, and began rubbing at his forehead-shame. He looked up at Cal pleadingly, and Cal knew that Max didn't want him to ask these questions. Cal knew the answers, after all. But everyone else was watching...and well, even though Max was his brother Cal got the feeling he was hiding something...

Max sighed, and then looked around nervously. He knew that if anyone found out what he had done on his eighteenth birthday, he could be charged with manslaughter...he could go to jail for a very long time.

He sighed again, and Cal began tapping his foot. "Just spit it out, Max." He said under his breath, so that only Max could hear him. That must have given him the courage he needed, because he started to talk.

"He blames me for Grace's death...you know that...and he saw me running away from the scene of the crime. Nearly blew my head off." He said the last part very quickly, and with a little laugh at the end, showing that he was nervous after all. Cal's eyebrows shot up towards his forehead in shock and surprise-he didn't know that!

"_Excuse me?_ You were at the scene of the crime? Did you see who killed her? Why didn't you call it in, or tell me?" He said, s was beginning to forget about the other people watching, who might be wondering why a suspect should come out and tell their interrogator everything before they were even questioned.

"If I saw who killed her, don't you think I would have told you?" Max said. _No, no Max, don't be lying to me._ Cal thought desperately. That was a classic deflection, a sign he was lying. And people only lied when they had something to hide...generally, something bad.

"Answer the question. _Did you see who killed her?"_ He asked sharply. Max shifted in his seat, and his leg began jumping up and down. Those watching outside could tell he was nervous, and by the way he was hesitating, he was probably about to lie.

"No, I did not see who killed her. I didn't call it in because I didn't see who killed her. If I saw anyone about to be killed, I would try and defend them. And telling the police would be a form of defense, right? " Anyone could spot the lies in the first two sentences. Rigid repetition, followed by Max looking Cal straight in the eye, not moving his head at all, leg moving up and down the whole time. The next sentence though...it was completely true. He would try and defend them. But by the way he said "_a_ form of defense" he could tell that Max was thinking of another way he could defend her. His pupils moved to the upper left corner of his eyes as they registered a memory. So he tried to defend her but didn't tell the police. And he saw the killer.

"That's rubbish! You saw who killed her! Tell me who!" He demanded hotly,pointing his finger at Max as he stepped forward in an accusing manner. Gillian could see that there was something about this man that made Cal a little less level-headed, and he would lose his cool soon.

Max stood up, pushing his chair back and knocking it over. "Trust me!" The words didn't mean the same thing to them as it would to someone else. Something else passed between the two men, and they both took the same aggressive stance towards each other. It was remarkable how similar they looked at certain moments. Gillian just assumed that even strangers could share some common traits. Although they weren't exactly acting like strangers...

"Trust you? _Trust you? _You're lying to me Max! It would save you a whole lot of trouble if you just told us the truth about what happened!" Cal yelled. Max shrugged his shoulder and stepped back a bit when Cal said that it would save him trouble with the police- he didn't believe a word of it.

"Alright, I was in London and I thought I would visit some of the places I hadn't been two since I- in a very long time. I went down down an alley by the bakery, Johnson's Rolls, you know, that place that had really good bread? I saw a man in a dark coat with a gun. I didn't know who he was. There was also a girl, about fourteen. She was around 5"6, with honey blonde hair. It looked like Sam's, I remember thinking." Unnecessary details. He was lying about the man, but telling the truth about the girl and the location. He was also beginning to look down at his hands, which were nervously fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. He was showing signs of guilt. Cal decided not to call him out on it right away. He needed to hear the rest of the story. He needed his brother to stop showing signs that he knew the man, and that he was guilty. Not when he was talking about a homicide. It was an implication that he may have...no. Cal didn't want to think about that possibility.

"Keep going. Don't leave anything out...don't forget that I'm a lie detection expert. I'll know."

Max nodded and continued talking quickly. "And then he pulled out the gun and said 'I have a message to send to your father...' and then she turned around and started running, but he shot her! In the back of the head, and there was blood and stuff everywhere! And what was I supposed to do? I tackled the guy, without saying anything to him. I did not see who he was. I didn't know him. We got into a fist fight-and jeez, could that guy throw a punch!-but then I, uh, tripped, and he uh, got away and I just couldn't uh, get to him. He got away." Max said quickly. The first part was the whole truth. As soon as he started talking about the man, he began to lie.

"You're lying to me, Max! I told you I would know! Didn't I? Someone's died! We need to find the killer, and soon! Who knows how long it will be until Samuel figures out where you are? He was always good at computers, he might find a way!" Cal could tell two things from Max's expression. One: he didn't know that Samuel was a good hacker. That made sense, he had left before household computers became common. The second thing was that he showed guilt, shame, and fear when Cal said that Samuel didn't know where he was...and Cal began to get angry.

"Max! Look at me! Look at me!" He yelled when Max continued looking down at his hands. Max looked at him sharply, guilt and fear and regret written on his face. "Samuel does not know where you are, right? And don't you _dare_ lie to me!" Cal shouted as he began advancing towards Max, who was backing into a corner, hands out.

"Well...he does. I kind of told him when I was running away. I told him you could help, that you would beat him. And prove me innocent. And stuff. " Max let the words flow out guiltily with fear coloring his features. Cal exploded.

"You told him! You told him you were coming to me? You've just put us all in danger, Max! You _bastard!_ I have a _daughter!_ And now she's in danger and it's _all. Your. Fault!" _Lightman shouted. He punched Max in the nose, and there was a crunch and blood began to flow. He grabbed Max by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the wall. Gillian gasped and tried to get into the Cube, but it was locked. He must have locked it when he went in, he did that out of habit sometimes.

Max shoved him away with a look of distaste, rubbing the blood away from his nose with a disgusted look. "All _my_ fault? That's bollocks, and you know it! He kept asking me how I thought I could get away from him, now that he's found me. I said I would go to you, that you could protect me because you had contacts with the FBI and stuff, and that there was no way he could touch me while I was under your protection. Anybody would have said the same thing! Stop trying to blame for everything that goes wrong, you arsehole! It's not my fault!" Gillian gasped and redoubled her efforts to get inside. Loker and Torres were shouting at Cal, trying to reason with him to leave Max alone, but he wouldn't listen.

"Not your fault? _Not your fault?_ Of course it's your bloody fault! You didn't have to tell him that! In fact, there were a lot of things you didn't have to do! Samuel went bonkers after you left-and didn't come back! He wouldn't have forgiven you, but he wouldn't be trying to kill you now if you had stayed like a man, instead of running away like the coward you are!" Max went up to Cal, and now the fire was in _his_ eyes, and _he_ was the one who was angry.

"I am _not_ a coward! I had my own reasons for not coming back!" He said indignantly, shoving Cal angrily. Lightman tripped on the tipped over chair and fell to the ground. He scrambled up, rolling out of the way quickly in case Max decided that he would try and kick him.

Once he was on his feet again, he advanced towards Max, finger pointed menacingly, practically spitting out his words."Your own reasons, _huh_? You were too scared to go to jail, more like! You couldn't _stand_ the fact that you would have to look Samuel in the eye, Samuel and Grace's family! Her little sister was devastated, and she was never the same! I dated her once, but she couldn't stop telling me how much I looked like her sister's _murderer!_" He screamed at Max. The last thing Cal saw was Max's fist heading blindingly fast towards his eye, and then he was out like a light.

_This is an annoying sequence of words this is an annoying sequence of words this is an annoying seque_

Foster, Loker, and Torres stopped trying to break into the room and simply stared. Loker and Torres had some idea of what was going on, but they had no idea Lightman and Mason would explode at each other like this. Foster was more confused than she had ever been before.

Max stood in the center of the Cube, looking down at the unconscious form of his younger brother. All the fight drained out of him, seeing his brother on the ground like that, with his eye all blackened up-something that was _his_ doing. He and Cal had never gotten into a fight before, not a physical one-and Cal punching him yesterday didn't count, because he had deserved it.

He looked outside, to the three people pounding on the walls of the Cube, demanding to be let in. He could only assume that they were friends of his brother, or at least coworkers. He was so proud of Cal for founding his own business. It was a shame that he couldn't be there to congratulate him. Or that he wasn't there on his wedding day, or when his daughter was born. There were a lot of things he should have done but didn't, when it came to Cal.

He slowly walked to the door in a dream-like state, suddenly realizing how tired he was. And not just physically. There were a lot of things he was tired of. He unlocked the door.

"Why did you just punch Cal? What's going on?" Foster demanded immediately. She hated being lied to, or having secrets kept from her. Unfortunately, Cal tended to do a lot of this.

"Um, you just knocked my boss out. Not that I haven't wanted to do that before, but it's not cool when somebody else does it." Loker said casually. "You're not going to go crazy on any of us, are you? Because we've got an FBI agent waiting outside." Well, that wasn't completely true. Ben wasn't waiting, and for all he knew he could have gone somewhere else.

"Now are you going to step aside? Cal probably needs medical attention. I don't know what went on in there, but I know one thing. _Please._ Let us go in and check on him." Gillian said pleadingly. She didn't understand the situation, and she was taking a chance and hoping the man wasn't that dangerous...

Max adopted a hurt expression. "Er, yeah. Jeez, I didn't mean to knock him out. I just got caught up in the heat of the moment...and he was being a git, he shouldn't have mentioned Grace...gosh, I hope I didn't hurt him _too_ bad..." He said. Foster gave him a strange look. Cal had been punched by many people in his life-he was the type of guy that always seemed to be asking for it-but this was the first time someone regretted it. It surprised her.

She shoved past him and checked his vital signs. He appeared to be okay.

"Er...Cal will probably be fine. This isn't the first time someone has, er, punched his lights out, so to speak. There was this one time he and Terry got into this big fight and, well. He woke up after about half an hour, although he had some amnesia for a full day after that. Kept forgetting who I was. Was a pain keeping it from our dad...er, he'll be fine. Er, I guess I should, I don't know, move him or something?" Max said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Glares came from all around.

"_No_, we should just leave him there." Torres said, uncharacteristically sarcastic. "Come on Loker, let's take Lightman up to his office. Foster, can you make sure that he doesn't leave?" Foster nodded, and she and Loker began carrying him out, trying to move quickly to avoid the stares of the other employees. Lightman being carried from the Cube unconscious wasn't a normal occasion, after all. The door closed shut behind them, and there was silence.

"So who are you? Really? You talked to Cal and about him as if you knew him. You must have known him at some point, if you could talk about him and Terry getting into a fight. What is going on?" Gillian asked. Max closed his eyes, and sighed. He didn't say anything for a while. When he did speak, it was softly, and the regret in his voice was almost tangible.

"I...have made many mistakes in my life. What I did to Cal...was one of the worst. He won't forgive me for it. He probably shouldn't." Max said slowly. Gillian looked at him.

"...'What you did to Cal'...what do you mean?" she asked, just as slowly. Max sighed once more, and wiped some of the blood away from his nose with his shirt. The once solid-black was now splattered with drops of red. She sighed and handed him a tissue.

"I'll start at the beginning. I'm Max, Max Mason. Cal's my little brother."

Foster could not contain her shock. She just stared. And stared. And stared. Until finally, all that came out was, "What?"

**A/N: I'm so sorry! I've pretty much forgotten about Agent Reynalds! Gah, I feel like an idiot. I knew I was forgetting somebody. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. Please in your review, tell me if you think I made anyone OOC. And Unweaving the Rainbow, I decided to just go ahead and post this because I was in a bit of a rush to get this out. Sorry. And I'm happy, because I hit 6,000 words, which makes this the longest chapter I have ever written. Yay!**

**Until next time!**

**~mourningstar13, or a really beast pen name. I changed it because I was bored~**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Tyler. You were too young. I still don't like you, but... R.I.P.**

**DISCLAIMER: If it were mine, you would know. Trust me. It's nice to say I'm not one to brag, but...**

**WARNING: Abuse later in the chapter, angst pretty much throughout. **

"What do you mean by that? Cal doesn't have any family-well, not besides Emily, that is." Gillian couldn't believe what she had just heard. Cal had never mentioned having a brother.

"Well it's true. I'm his older brother, I'm four years older." He said. Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. It just didn't fit right in her mind. Cal had always been a lone wolf. Always. He had acted like an only child, like someone who had grown up without guidance, and she knew that could easily be true. His mother had been insane, and Cal never talked about his father, but Gil knew he had left when Cal was young, probably too young to remember him. But now he had an older brother?

"No, that can't be true. Cal told me once that everyone in his family besides his dad is dead." Why would Cal lie about something like that? If he had said that he had a brother, but that they had had a falling out or something and that's why he never visited, Gillian would have understood. Max winced, and they sat in silence for a long while.

Gillian knew she should respect his privacy, but she couldn't help but glance at him some when she thought he wasn't looking. It was amazing how much he looked like Cal, she couldn't believe that she hadn't seen it earlier. They both had the same medium brown hair, the same slouch. They both had hazel eyes, and they were both a little on the short side, around 5"8. However, there were some differences. Max's hair was slightly longer, and had a tendency to flop into his face. He also had hawkish features, with sharp cheekbones and a bit of a hooked nose. With the blood now gone, she could see the bump that suggested it had been broken at least once before. He also had a scar, about three inches long, that ran in a curve from his left eye to the center of his cheek. It looked like a knife wound, but she couldn't be sure.

"...Until yesterday, he thought I was dead." Max said slowly, his voice breaking the silence in a way similar to someone throwing a rock into a frozen pond. It was easy for Gillian to see that the very words caused him pain. His voice sounded far away, and she assumed he had been caught up in a memory. Gillian raised her eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

"Well, after my eighteenth birthday...something happened...and somebody died. And it was my fault...this will be the only time I will say it, but it's my fault that Grace died. So I panicked. I fled. I always planned to come back...but, well I didn't. Our house was a hard place to go back to, once you've left. I left Cal alone, and I shouldn't have...he needed me, especially then...when I didn't come back, I guess he and everyone else just assumed I had died." He said. Gillian could tell he was leaving some stuff out, but decided not to press it too much. She was still curious though, but decided to avoid topics that included Cal. Cal could tell her those parts on his own.

"Grace...she was the person who died, right? I guess you don't like people mentioning her, and that's why you punched Cal?" She asked. Max grimaced.

"Yeah. And he was asking for it, little bugger. Grace...she was my best friend, and Samuel's girlfriend. Samuel was my other best friend." He said, but Gillian could tell there was more to it than that. She heard the "was" after all, and she knew this man wasn't dead. She put that aside and decided to focus on Grace for a moment.

"Grace...she was more than just a friend, I take it?" Max nodded.

"We dated for a while, before she left me for Samuel. Cal never liked Grace, but I did. I loved her. She just didn't love me back." He ignored Gillian's looks of pity. "It wasn't just me. Dad loved a girl who wouldn't love him back too. She rejected him, and so he decided to _settle_," he spat this word out with disgust, "for Mum. I guess it must be some kind of trait the Mason men share. I'm just waiting for it to happen to Cal too." He showed a lot of anger, disgust, guilt, hurt, and regret when he mentioned his father. She normally might have said something about that, but Gillian was distracted. _Did Cal love anybody that didn't love him back? Nah_, she thought, _everybody Cal's gone after has been nothing but eager to jump into his arms. I don't think he's ever been rejected._

"Wait-Mason men? Cal's last name is Lightman, not Mason like yours. How come you don't have the same last name?" She asked curiously. Max simply shrugged.

"I expect he didn't want to be connected to any of us." She wondered what he meant by that, but decided it wasn't something he would appreciate her asking.

"He still should have told me that Lightman wasn't his real last name. I'm his best friend! I'm supposed to know these things! I mean, he doesn't have to tell me _everything_, but finding out that his last name isn't his real last name and that he has some long-lost brother that I've never heard of is a little shocking!" She said. Cal should have told her all of this. After all, he'd told her about his mother's suicide. Why tell her about that, but none of this? She'd noticed that there were certain days every year when he seemed to get a little somber and shut himself up in his office. Normally, these days tended to be a few days around the end of August and November, and then a full week right around Christmas. She's always assumed that it was because those days were in some way connected with his mother...had he only told her about his mother so that she would assume that?

"Well, you just said that you were Cal's best friend, so I guess you know him pretty well. Even when he was a kid, Cal always liked to play his cards close to his chest. I was the only person he ever confided in, ever, and he didn't even tell _me_ all of his secrets. So don't beat yourself up about it. You probably know more about him than anyone else." The "_including me" _was heard as loudly as if it had been spoken aloud. She looked at him for a moment, eyes searching, before he threw his hands in the air and stood up.

"Well, come on then. He's probably coming 'round now, I doubt he would stay unconscious for very long. Let's go check on him." He said, putting his hands on his knees and pushing himself into a standing position. He stuck out and hand for her to grab, and helped pull her up as well.

"Well I'm supposed to be watching you to make sure you don't run. Can I trust you to stay where I can see you?" Gillian asked, somewhat hesitantly. She figured that she could trust Max after their conversation. Cal was a man of his word and she thought that Max was too. If he agreed not to run, she didn't think he would.

"Yeah. Let's just go see my little brother." Gillian started a little at the words-she still wasn't used to Cal and Max being brothers. "Do you see that copper friend of yours anywhere? I can't go out if he's there." Max said nervously, rubbing his thumb in circular motions over the top of his hand as a sign of his anxiety.

Gillian shot him a glare. She hated the fact that she would have to dodge around the place trying to avoid cops as long as he was with her; she hated the fact that he was a fugitive. She hated _him_ for being Cal's best kept secret that he couldn't bother to tell her about. But still, she complied by glancing around for Ben. After all, she still wanted to see if Cal was alright and being arrested would hinder that plan.

"Nope. No cops. Let's go."

_this is not a page break this is not a page break this is not a page break this is not a page break_

Loker and Torres dropped Lightman on the couch in his office with a sigh of relief.

"Either Lightman is really fat and we just can't tell, or I'm much more of a wimp then I thought I was." Loker said, huffing a bit. Lightman was heavy! Torres shot him a look that told him to shut up.

"Well. This is a bit...odd, wouldn't you agree?" She asked with a thoughtful look on her face. Loker pulled his eyebrows and tightened the muscles around his mouth: he had no idea what she was talking about.

"What do you mean? It's odd that he got punched? He and Max were in a pretty intense argument, and he's already punched Max, I was just waiting for it to happen to him. And sometimes when you get punched, you go unconscious. It's not that odd." He said, confusion coloring his voice and making it slow, rising slightly in pitch.

"No, not that. Lightman can b e a very obnoxious guy at times, I'd be surprised if he _hadn't_ been punched at least once in his life. No, what I mean is Max showing up at all. I mean, we find Lightman's diary and then a week later, his long-lost brother who he hasn't seen in thirty years shows up? Seems like quite a coincidence to me." She said suspiciously. There was no way this could be a coincidence. It all seemed just a bit too...convenient for her.

Loker laughed in surprise. "What, do you think this was all some weird conspiracy? Look," he said, his voice becoming a bit more serious, "Mason has a man out for his blood, and it doesn't sound like this Samuel guy is the type to give up very easily, from what we've read and heard. You think the only reason Max came all the way over to America was to ask for Lightman's help? I mean, it may have also been because it would be harder to find him in a foreign country, but he told Samuel where he was going so I doubt that's it. He could die. If I were about to die, and I had a brother who I hadn't seen in decades who I'd had a falling out with, I would go and try and make it up to him. Max is doing the same thing. Yeah, maybe it is a little convenient that he happened to come about the time we read the diary, but not everything has to be a part of some master plan. Lightman may think so, but Lightman is a paranoid bastard. Sometimes, a coincidence is exactly that: a coincidence." He said, taking a breath after talking for so long. He hadn't really paused in that paragraph, trying to get his words out as fast as he could.

Torres nodded in understanding before she could stop herself. Darn it. When had Loker become the logical one?

"Yeah, I guess so." She said as she sat down on a chair and waited for Lightman to wake. Loker did the same, perhaps sitting closer than was strictly necessary.

"This whole situation is kind of-irritating, I guess. It's just, if Lightman has some baggage, some secret, some horrible thing that happened in the past, it should stay in the past. It seems like Lightman has moved on from whatever happened. Why can't everybody else? And by everybody, I mean Max in particular." Torres said as she huffed in annoyance.

"Some things are hard to move past." He said distantly. Torres shot him another one of those looks he'd been getting a lot of lately. After all, since when had Loker been thoughtful, or logical? Maybe Lightman wasn't the only one she was seeing a new side of.

"...Right. Well, you want to read some of the diary, now that we've got some down time?" He asked, breaking the silence. He dug around in his black messenger bag for a moment, and then pulled out the diary, raising his eyebrows. Torres nodded, a bit hesitantly. She always hesitated a little bit before saying yes, but she did so even more this time. She wasn't sure she was going to like all of the things she read in there.

"...Yeah, sure." She agreed. Still, she had a niggling feeling in the back of her brain like maybe she was forgetting something...

He took out the book and began reading quietly to avoid waking Lightman, even though he was deeply unconscious at the moment.

_December 25th, 1978 age 15_

_ And so another Christmas comes and goes. Well Dad was sober, but still as mean as ever. Very disappointing. Mum has been doing better, however. We had a full conversation the other day while I told her all about my new psychology class. She actually seemed interested, making comments about the inner working of someone with autism, which I take as a good sign. We didn't have much of a Christmas this year though. We haven't had power for a while because we can't afford it, and I've been selling off some of our furniture for grocery money. Some representatives from the bank came the other day, making threatening statements about the mortgage. They left after some loud shouts from Dad, but any fool could see he was thinking about what they said. I think he's going to apply for a job. Thank goodness. Now maybe things will finally get better. After all, a job is just the first step. If he gets a job, he has to keep it, and he can't do that if he's showing up drunk all the time, can he? I can finally stop staying over at Terry's house whenever he gets mad. _

"Where have you two been? We've been waiting for you to come back downstairs." Gillian said, as she and Max quietly opened the door. Loker and Torres both jumped, and guiltily tried to hide the journal. They only half succeeded. Max didn't notice them putting the journal away. He was preoccupied with guiltily staring at his younger brother, who was now tossing and turning in his sleep instead of laying scarily still, unconscious as he was. It sounded like he may have been muttering a name...something that started with an "El", but Loker wasn't sure.

Max walked over to the edge of the couch and reached out his hand like he was considering waking Lightman from whatever nightmare he might or might not have been having, considering the amount of moving around he was doing. He got maybe an inch away from his shoulder before he jerked it back, apparently deciding that Lightman needed the sleep. They hadn't managed to hide it from Gillian though; she caught sight of the black book right as Loker was throwing it into his messenger bag, rumpling the pages a bit in his haste. Foster gave him a suspicious glance and raised her eyebrow, opening her mouth to comment on his guilty expression, when she was interrupted by Max.

"Well it doesn't look like he's unconscious anymore...should I wake him up? Aren't we supposed to do that, to see if he, er, has a concussion, or, er, something?" He said awkwardly, rubbing his hand along the scar on his face in what appeared to be a nervous habit. Loker started guiltily. He had gone to university, gotten a degree, and had spent some time studying biology and health science while his dad was trying to convince him to be a doctor. He should have already thought of that.

"Yeah, we should probably wake him up every hour or so. Um, hey Lightman!" He shouted, turning to the sleeping figure. "Uh, wake up!" Lightman jerked a little when his name was called, but didn't wake up.

"Cal? Come on, get up. We need to make sure you're okay." Gillian said, shaking his shoulder a little bit. Torres just started being loud. Max watched their attempts to wake his younger brother, who was a _very_ heavy sleeper, with amusement. Finally, when he started to get bored, he grabbed a half-empty mug of coffee that had been left on Lightman's desk earlier and poured it straight on his face. Cal shot straight up, and made a move like he was about to unconsciously punch the guy near him, who happened to be Max, before he realized what was going on.

"Don't-what the hell?" Cal said as he wiped the lukewarm coffee off. Max gave an unapologetic look and plopped down on the couch beside him, waiting for Cal to move first.

"Welcome to the world of the living. Sorry for punching your lights out, by the way, but you deserved it and you know it." Max replied, not really looking sorry, definitely not near as sorry as he had been earlier. Gillian, being a psychologist, supposed it had something to do with him not wanting to fully show his emotions, but she wasn't sure. Cal looked like he was about to argue, but Gillian was suddenly taken by surprise when his shoulder drooped and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I suppose I did. But you deserved me punching you too, don't forget that. But anyway," Lightman said, remembering the other people in the room, "The truth is, Max is actually an old friend of mine. We went to school together in high school, he was one of my best mates. But then a friend of ours died, and he became really upset-they had dated in the past, and you were really in love with her, weren't you Max?" Max's lips tightened into a thin line, and some of the muscles around his face and eyes contracted, showing his unhappiness with being designated as nothing more than a friend, and with Cal talking about his personal life, especially with Grace. He nodded, and shot Foster a look telling her not to let Loker and Torres know the truth, unaware that they already knew.

"Well, being upset, he decided to just leave. It was a difficult time to be without friends, and neither of us really forgave the other for what happened. He turned up the other day asking for my help, and what was I supposed to do, say no? We used to be mates, that has to count for something." Cal said this all casually, with almost no indicators that he was lying. Loker and Foster wouldn't have been able to catch him in the lie. Torres would have, but would have brushed off the slight signs of anxiety as Lightman being nervous about being near someone he hadn't seen in a long time. Only Max would have been able to know the truth, but he had known Cal since he had been born. It was a bit of a slap in the face to Gillian. To know that he lied to her...and that she would have believed it...she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

"Cal." He looked up at her, his face expectant. "I know that Max is your brother. He told me while you were unconscious." Gillian said simply. Cal at least had the decency to look guilty.

"So he told you. Look, love, I wouldn't have lied but...it's just not something that I want to get into. You understand, yeah?" He said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly and allowing everybody to see his guilt.

Loker and Torres still didn't look surprised, he noted. They knew about Max? Why did they already know? He thought about asking them, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Right. Well, er..." Cal started, not quite sure of what to say. How do you apologize for lying to somebody, not on one occasion, but for years? Max saw his consternation and helped him out...sort of. It was out of the frying pan, into the fire.

"As much as I would love to hear you three awkwardly chat about me while I'm in the room...I need to talk to you, Cal. In private." Max said somberly, glancing at the room's occupants. Cal sighed, but agreed. They had some stuff to sort out, stuff they had needed to sort out for a long time. They couldn't afford to get into another fight again. They needed to be able to work together and focus on the case. Cal looked at Gillian expectantly, and she started.

"Oh! Oh yeah, we'll leave you two alone then, I guess...but I want to talk to you later, too, Cal. You've got some explaining to do." He nodded grimly, a pained look on his face. It seemed like this day was about to be filled with awkward, stressful, angry, and difficult conversations.

Foster, Loker, and Torres walked down towards Foster's office so that they could talk there, an uncomfortable silence hovering between them that nobody was quite brave enough to break. Gillian opened the door to her office, which creaked a bit, her heels clip-clopping over to where she sat down behind the desk.

"Anybody could see that you two know something about this case-or rather, about Max and Cal.

And what was that you were trying to hide earlier? Tell me whatever secret it is you're keeping, if you're worried about me telling Cal, I can tell you here and now that I won't tell him anything." She said reassuringly, used to having to coax the darker aspects of life out of some of her patients. Torres looked to Loker for reassurance, not sure if they should say anything, but Loker was already running his mouth.

"About a week ago, we found what has to be his diary or journal or something." Gillian was surprised-Cal had a diary? While she often suggested something like that as away of venting for her patients, she had never really expected Cal to be the type to have one...but she was also horrified.

"So you _read_ it? What made you do that? You should know by now that Cal likes his privacy, he won't ever forgive you for this. How much did you read?" Loker looked ashamed,, and Torres pretended like she wasn't there.

"Um, we've read from about the time that he was twelve to when when he was fifteen." Gillian sighed, and Loker continued to explain, trying to redeem himself.

"At first, it was mainly out of curiosity, and we didn't know for sure that it was Lightman because he had a different last name back then. Later, when Max came, we decided that we needed to know the full story about Max and Samuel. Now, we're reading because Samuel is still there, although he isn't really mentioned. But who knows? Maybe Lightman has someone else from his past who could show up the same way that Max and Terry did. He's not going to tell us any of this stuff on his own, you saw how he tried to lie to us earlier-and we all would have believed him, too. Now are you going to read too, or are we alone in this? Once this is all said and done, we can apologize to him, but right now I, personally, would like to know what is going on." Loker said. Gillian hesitated, feeling conflicted. Cal would never forgive her for this. It was a huge betrayal of trust and a large breach of privacy. It was wrong. But what Loker said made sense...and it's not like she wasn't a little curious.

"Fine...but we don't read anything too recent. Not within the last ten years or so. Cal needs some privacy, after all." She said, watching as Loker and Torres nodded. She hadn't _exactly_ lied...just hid part of the truth. It wasn't so much that Cal needed secrets-although that was true-it was more that she was afraid that she might find something about herself in there...and she was scared of what she might find. She watched distantly as Loker once more fished the slightly crumpled diary out of his pocket, and tried to pretend that she wasn't about to do something she would regret, for the rest of her life.

"We have time, you know. Max and Lightman will probably be talking for a long, long time. Now's the time to read." Torres commented as she pulled up a chair next to Loker and he laid the book flat against the desk, reading aloud in a soft voice.

_ January 2nd, 1978 age 15_

_ Dad's got a job! He's working as a blue-collar employee with a construction company. Not the best paying job in the world, but a lot better than nothing, right? He walked in the door last night, and said, "Well buck up, twerp. I've got a job now, so you can stop feeling sorry for yourself. We won't be poor for much longer now. Of course, we wouldn't be poor in the first place if I didn't have to take care of you, or pay for all the damage your brother caused way back when, but that doesn't matter now, does it? We're moving past your brother's mistakes." I hate it when he brings up Max. He only does it when he compares me to "that coward" or when he's talking about all of the damage Max might have caused. Grace's family, the Boveux, didn't press charges, which was good because if they had we would have been very screwed. Still, Dad wasn't about to let any of us forget how bad it could have been._

_ "Shut up, arsehole. Stop blaming everything on Max, he was a great guy. He probably wouldn't have left if you weren't such a git." I said in return, even though I knew it wasn't true. I just wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Max left because of Grace, not because of Dad, but that didn't mean I couldn't give him a hard time about it._

_ "Don't you _dare_ talk to me that way, you little coward. You think you can talk to me that way?Stop being such a condescending little bugger. Maybe I ought to show you who's boss around here." Dad said menacingly, stepping forward and raising his fist, an unspoken threat. I was so sick of him. He wanted to show who was boss? Well I might not be "the boss" but he wasn't either. He certainly hadn't earned that position. Dad didn't deserve my respect, and I was going to make sure he knew it._

_ "Besides," he said as he stepped closer, ignoring my rebellious glare, "If he was such a great guy, don't you think he would have stayed, instead of letting other people clean up his mess? I guess he just didn't care about you, or any of us. After all, it's his fault your mother has been so distant lately. It's a grief thing. Stop hero worshiping him, Cal. Wake up and smell the coffee. Max is dead and gone, and he didn't give a shit about a single one of us. He didn't care about going to Oxford, or his education. Didn't care about his family, his friends. Not even you. He just got up and walked away." He said with a smug smile. How dare he blame this all on Max! I could feel myself beginning to get angry._

_ "Nobody cares what you think, bastard! You think this is all Max's fault? Maybe you're dumber than you look! It's _your_ fault Mum is bloody nuts, not his! Why don't you just get lost? Nobody needs you here!" I said angrily. This was the first time I had blamed him, normally I was smarter than that. But anger makes you rash, I suppose. I had just been hoping that maybe I could make him sorry for all the terrible stuff he had put us through. Maybe he would apologize. And barring that, maybe he would get out the door and leave. After all, if Mum wasn't going to kick him out of the house then someone had to. Why shouldn't it be me? But nope, it didn't look like Dad was going to apologize. In fact, he just got angrier. Looking back, I should have seen it coming, but I was being stupid, and I've never been very good at reading people anyway._

_ His grubby fingernails, filthy from the day's work, dug into my arms as he shoved me against the wall, his face way too close. His breath stank as he breathed right up against me, and I tried not to squirm. I did nothing but wince in pain a little bit, as he had injured my back the other day when he threw a book at me. He thought he could scare me? Hah! I would show him, I could take anything he threw at me!_

_ "Don't you _dare_ blame any of this on _me_, boy." We glared at each other, the silence between us as loud as it could possibly be, some strange oxymoron of fate. I could hear everything in those few moments: the water dripping through the cracks in our ceiling, Mum moving around in her sleep upstairs, the kitchen door creaking slightly on its rusty hinges, even though nobody had moved it. Dad suddenly shoved me away from him, and I fell into the coffee table. I didn't break the table like I thought I would, but I may have bruised my shoulder pretty badly. But bruises were nothing to whine about unless you were a wimp, so I stood up and advanced towards my father, a sneer creeping up to join my rebellious and angry glare._

"Boy_? Come on Dad, I'm fifteen. A teenager, a bloody _man_, not a munchkin. I mean, boy. I'm not a kid. Or have you forgotten how old I am? Getting too drunk nowadays to remember your own son? It certainly seems that way, the number of times I've come home to find you passed out on the couch." Dad snarled in anger and then grabbed my head and slammed it into the coffee table, so that I once more fell against it. My head knocked against it with a sharp crack, and I saw stars for a moment, and then I rolled over and I was on the ground, and Dad was viciously kicking me in the ribs to make sure that I didn't get up again. I just laughed at him, not about to show he had hurt me and admit defeat. _

_ "I'm not always drunk, twerp. I'm a good father. I could have abandoned you as a kid, I could have chucked you out a window, I could have drowned you at birth. Should have, probably. We might be poor, but at least we're not poor-assed hobos. Don't think that I couldn't just kick you out of the house, kid. You want to be a hobo? Living on the streets, begging for money? You've never begged a day in your life, you'd starve. Now shut the hell up and apologize."_

_ I struggled to get up, wincing a little bit and trying to look pissed off so he wouldn't see me wince. Not that I had to act too hard._

_ "I'm not going to apologize, you prat. So you're a good father, huh? Sure. You just keep telling yourself that." I said, limping a bit as I walked up the stairs towards my bedroom, being careful to be a little quieter so that I wouldn't wake Mum. "Now I'm just going to go turn on the lights so I can do my homework-oh wait, I forgot, we can't afford power. Maybe I'd better get dinner instead, but wait, we don't have any effing food in the fridge. Well then how about instead I go and sit upstairs, hungry and in the dark, and think about how you're such a _great_ father. That sound good to you?" I said sarcastically. And I'm related to that idiot? Yeah, right. I don't care if we look alike. Maybe I'm adopted. _

_ "You get back here, right now!" He shouted up the stairs at me, his hands reaching for something I couldn't see from my vantage point. I scoffed at him. _

_ "Yeah, and have to be near _you?_ I think I'd rather fall in a ditch and die. Here's an idea, why don't you go do that instead?" Not the smartest thing I'd ever done. But hey, I was pissed. And he deserved it anyways. Bastard. _

_ "I'm going to count to three, and if you're are not down here by then, you are going to be _so sorry._" He said threateningly, his hands brushing something on his belt that I couldn't see. _

_ "How old do you think I am, two? Go screw yourself. I'm not going to come down because you're bloody _counting, _you wanker." I replied, angrily stomping as I reached the door to my room. Dad might be a bastard, and he did hurt me sometimes, but he'd never _seriously_ hurt me, so I doubted that he would do anything. _

_ "One!" He yelled tightly up the stairs. I sneered, even though he couldn't see it._

_ "Screw you!" I replied, opening the door to my room and wishing I had a lock._

_ "Two!" He yelled just as loudly, and it sounded like he was coming up the stairs. I wasn't scared though._

_ "Go crawl in a ditch, why don't you?" I said scathingly, turning around to face him now that I could hear him behind me. _

_ "Three." He whispered, scary-quiet. I wasn't scared. Nope. I wasn't scared. He cocked an eyebrow at me, waiting to see if I would walk down the stairs. I raised mine in return, and then flipped him the bird._

_ "Eff you, arsehole."I said, except I didn't say "eff". He wasn't worth arguing with, I thought as I turned around. I heard Dad make another one of those angry and frustrated grunts, and then I felt something crash into my shoulder, and then I heard rather than felt a small crunching sound. Damn! That hurt! What had he thrown at me?_

_ I fell to the ground, clutching me shoulder, and then turned around so I could glare at Dad, gritting my teeth against the pain. _

_ "You're completely worthless, Cal. You don't even really fight back. You're such a wimp, how did I land you for a son? You'd think that since I have both you and Max, at least _one_ of you would turn out to be worth something. Well, I guess not/" He sneered. Well he had my attention now. He thought I didn't fight back? Well I'd show him!_

_ With a yell, I suddenly shot up and tackled him, and we both fell down the stairs. I can't remember what I said exactly. I think it was something along the lines of, "Take that, bastard!" but I'm not entirely sure. _

_ We rolled down the stairs, knocking into the banister and the walls as we went. Finally we landed, Dad holding his wrist and swearing, me trying to make sure my ankle still worked. It was feeling shaky and weak, but that didn't mean anything. The only thing I cared about was that _I_ had succeeded in hurting _him_ for once. See how he likes it. He got up and started kicking me, not angrily or especially sadistically, just trying to prove a point. I tried to get up and walk away, but found that my ankle collapsed under me. Damn. When I finally asked him to stop-oh, the shame-he gave me a victorious glance, happy now that he had proved he was stronger than a kid nearly thirty years younger than him. He then walked away, leaving me to crawl up the stairs alone._

_ Once I reached my bedroom, I finally broke down and started swearing at everything in sight. My shoulder, my ribs, my ankle-it all bloody hurts! What kind of a father did this to his own son, but still got away with thinking he was a good dad? I opened the door to my closet, where I had some food-Dad liked to lock me in there sometimes when I stayed up too late, saying the dark would help me get my insomniac ass asleep-and some medical supplied lying around here and there. I grabbed the gauze, and began wrapping up my ankle with a wince. Once I was done with that I took off my shirt and stared at my shoulder for a while, trying to decide if there was anything I could do about it. It was purple and red and green, and it hurt like a bitch. I nearly cried out when I touched it. But it didn't look like there was anything I could wrap. I wasn't sure if maybe a sling would help-it was my shoulder, not my arm-but slings were too obvious, and I didn't have one anyway. I settled for just slipping the wrap into my pocket. I was going over to Terry's house again, that was where I normally stayed after Dad and I had a fight. He had a friend named Elisabeth Yowle who was about our age, but had always been interested in being a doctor and knew quite a bit of medical information. If she stopped by then I supposed I would let her have a look at it-maybe. I would just tell her Terry and I got into a fight again, that was our general cover story when Dad and I had a "small disagreement". _

_ Peeking out the door briefly to make sure that Dad wasn't nearby and couldn't hear me, I undid the latch to my window and popped it open. Taking a deep breath and preparing myself for the hell this was going to put on my ankle, I jumped out the small, ten feet high window and fell through the air, landing with a muted scream. That had hurt a lot more than I expected it to. I rolled up onto my feet, and promptly fell onto the ground again. My ankle couldn't support me. Now what? Terry's house was nearby, but still several streets away. I couldn't exactly hop the whole way there._

_ I ended up using a fallen tree branch, and using it as a walking stick, ignoring the way my ankle metaphorically screamed in pain every time I set it down. I deserved it anyways, for attacking Dad. That was a stupid thing to do. After finally making it over to Terry's house, and scrambling painfully up that _damned _tree of his, I knocked on the window. After a moment, Terry appeared, even though it was now nearing midnight. He opened the window and looked at me expectantly._

_ "You get in a fight with your old man again?" He asked as he helped me through the window, even though I tried not to let him know I was injured. It was one thing to be in pain alone, but it was a totally different thing when somebody was there._

_ "Yup. And he's an arsehole if I've ever seen one." I whispered, not wanting to wake his little brother Jimmy, who was sleeping on a twin bed a few feet away. Terry snorted, also trying to be quiet._

_ "Why do you still live with him, anyway? Ditch him and live here. Is there any reason not to?" He said . He tried to convince me to move in with him every time this happened. I shook my head._

_ "It's not like you can take in somebody else. And who would take care of my mum if I left? Dad hasn't started hitting her yet, but who knows how long that will last?" I said in return. He knew all of this anyway, why were even talking about it?_

_ "Just bring your mum with you! We could deal. We've always managed before, haven't we?" Terry shot back. I rubbed my forehead and sighed. We had to go through this every _bloody _time I snuck over to his house. _

_ "Look, Terry. Dad would find us. And we both know what happened the last time I ran away." I said quietly. It wasn't something I liked to talk about. Terry looked away, ashamed._

_ "I don't have any aunts or uncles I could go to either, and you know this would be the first place Dad would check if I ran away. And I don't think living life as a hobo would be much better than living with Dad, and that' s pretty much my only other option." I said logically. Terry sighed, and led me over to his closet, which was where I normally sleep when I'm hiding at his house. It's equipped pretty much the same way mine is: some spare blankets, medical supplies, some food, and a flashlight. _

_ "Just be gone before my family wakes up, okay? Jimmy is a bit of an early riser, and so are Derrick and Josh." He said, referring to his three brothers. I nodded, I knew the drill. I'm sitting in his closet now, using the flashlight to write this. I'm probably going to be here for a few days while I wait for Dad to cool down. And to think I used to spend my days dreaming of playing football in the backyard with him! Bastard._

Loker and Torres looked at each other sadly. They knew that Cal had been abused before, but he had always danced around the subject. This was the first time they had read about it in any detail. It was a depressing thing to read about, especially considering they knew the person. Even though it had happened long ago, it was definitely...disturbing.

Foster was shocked. They should have warned her about this! Cal should have told her! Over the years, it had become plain to her that he severely disliked his father, and didn't like to talk about him, but Foster assumed that was because he had left him and his mother when he was young, not because he had been abused! Hearing this, on top of finding out about Max-she just couldn't believe how many things about himself Cal hadn't told her. It was just like Cal to keep secrets, but that didn't mean she liked it. The psychologist within her told her that it was never good for one man to keep so much bottled up. She wasn't surprised that Cal had fought back though-both verbally or physically. She wouldn't have pegged him as the type to take...things like that lying down.

"Wait. Have you considered that maybe this isn't true?" She knew it was a stupid question as soon as she asked it, but that didn't stop her. "Cal told me that his father left him when he was young. From the way he said it, too young to remember. Fifteen is definitely old enough to remember." She said, grasping at straws. Loker and Torres looked at each other, and Torres hesitantly chose to speak.

"Well, maybe he did say that...but then again, he also said that Max was his best friend from high school, and that he didn't have a brother." She said. Foster put her head in her hands and sighed.

What were they going to do now?

**A/N: Word count: 7, 316. Am I good or what? Oh, and sorry for the pointless angsting, it should contain more action soon. Has anybody got any title suggestions? I can't think of anything that fits quite right. Oh, and today is March 6th! In 1836, the Alamo fell to the Santa Anna's troops in an epic last stand that in the end, allowed us to win the Texas Revolution. The Alamo was a Pyrrhic victory that killed a third of the Mexican troops, and allowed us to defeat them later at the Battle of San Jacinto. Happy late Texas Independence Day! -just remembered it was actually on the 2nd-**

**~mourningstar13, or a really beast pen name~**


	9. Haitus Notification

Hey readers!

I'm assuming y'all are probably going to hate me for this. But, I have given up fanfiction for Lent, which means that there won't be any chapter updates from now until Easter. Don't worry, I'll still be writing, I just won't be posting, so there should be a bunch of chapters come Easter Sunday, which is on April 24th this year. I'm sorry about this, but whatever. See ya in 37 days!

-mourningstar13


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